My demons drip down greened fangs,
tarnished with time;
that grip and strangle old dreams,
that slowly die.
They feast on my wants, on what my soul craves;
They devour my being and destroy my flame;
Incessant, they linger,
they lurk in my thoughts,
they prowl on the edge of awareness,
and clamor with the chorus so strong:
No. Nothing. Gone.