Very Real

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.

trees near pathway
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

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