which others never see,
pushed back the barbs and indifference,
the contempt you hold for me.
I have beheld the other person;
you've learned to hide him well,
in the self-inflicted prison,
that place where demons dwell.
Poor, tortured, distorted soul,
where from came your affliction?
You allow the nightmare to own you,
with such a firm conviction.
There are times I see the fear,
your temper and face cannot mask.
I would try my friend to help you.
All you have to do is but ask.
Could I but exorcise the terror,
push you back into the light,
perhaps the darkness would recede,
and you could win the fight.