Count back from ten, nine, eight,
He falls asleep not a moment to late,
They rush him in and open his chest,
Laid inside, his souls unrest.
His demons fight their way through,
Tearing through a vein or two,
They stitch him up, trapping his fear,
As they wait for devils to adhere.
They stayed within, hurting his mind,
Destroying what is left inside,
The man succumbed to depression deep,
The demons talk and the man does weep.
He fights and fends his heart from them,
His misery propagates from deep within,
The deep dark cloud forms overhead,
As he retired forever to bed.
They buried his soul deep in the ground,
In the hope his demons never be found.
Submitted: October 26, 2014
© Copyright 2023 AmberElise. All rights reserved.
Comments
My previous comment had too many typos. I want to say I really liked your poem.
Wed, November 12th, 2014 1:21pmFacebook Comments
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youseethroughme
I reaaly limed this one. I enjoyed how you laid out the imagery with short, concise phrases. This one is a keeper.
Wed, November 12th, 2014 1:18pmAuthor
Reply
Thank you very much
Wed, November 12th, 2014 5:27am