My dance with demons
Has gone on far too long now.
The song's on a loop.
The steps always change
The rhythm isn't steady,
Always ebbs and flows
Like waves pulled by the
Moon, they are ever-changing
But I'm never told.
My dances with demons
Are fast and loose, so reckless.
Like the Fifties Swing.
Unlike swing, my dance
Lacks elegance and grace, so
I am dragged around.
Unfamiliar
With the shuffling steps, I
Frequently stumble.
The record scratches.
Black eyes turn to me. Glaring.
All hell breaks loose. Help.
They attack with great
Ferocity, like hungry
Boars, and I, a feast.
They rip and shred and
Tear the fragile flesh from me.
Animalistic.
But when I open
My eyes, I am alone still.
Me and my scissors.
I fight back the tears.
All this time and nothing to
Do. The dance is done.
The battle was lost.
My battles are always lost.
They are too up hill.
And I don't stand a chance.
