askye: (Default)
posted by [personal profile] askye at 08:17pm on 08/10/2007 under
And I found this. I'm pretty sure people at B.org helped polish this. This poem, or the concept behind it, was something that rattled around in my head forever.  And ever.  Anyway it came out and it was this:

My Demon


My strength is failing,
I was once  strong
I had beat my demon back behind the door,
Back into a cage.
My growing strength weakened him.
 Pushed him beyond my door within a cage,
 Locked away his smoky sulfur breath, his curling claws.

 But  now I've grown weaker
 My fight is gone
 My spirit grows weaker
 My hope wanes.

He's  felt me weakening and grown stronger.
My demon is at my door
   Smoke curling up from  the cracks
   Sulfur thick in the air
   Claws clicking against the frame.
Patiently listening
Patiently  waiting
To burst through the door
    Reclaiming my life
    Consuming my spirit.

His siren song calls to me behind that door.
His desperate pleas to let him in.
He recites all his golden lies
Reminding me of how I need him,
Of what he's done for me.

And though I thought  I vanquished him
I listen to his siren call, his desperate pleas
His golden lies.
My self doubts grow.
And he grows stronger
My esteem weakens
And he grows stronger
I grow weaker.
And he grows stronger
He feeds upon my thoughts

Now he is at my door
My ever present, ever faithful demon.

I try not to weaken further,
Try and keep him just behind that door.
But he is so close,
and his lies are so smooth .
My faith wavers.


I fear he will twist the knob,
come through the door
Reclaim me, consume me
And I will go to him,
Embrace him ,
And believe his siren song,
his golden lies.


So that was then.

Now.  Imagine me in total SPN mode n a hot leather jacket holding my own specially designed Colt standing over the fucker in triumph.  That demon's in hell and if it ever tries to climb its way back out I've got rock salt, holy water, and many more bullets.

That's now.

Well, maybe I'm a little cocky. Maybe I have a few baby demons, but my own personal YED is gone. The rest is clean up.

June

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