tazmanian devil-like
they pole-vault
onto my shoulders
they scream
loudly into
my ears
i feed them
morsels of
my self-doubt
encourage them
to grow bigger
(like me)
they leave
me
haunted
in the shadows
while they
regurgitate
the best of me…
and, i listen..
they feed me
addictive morsels
that change me
i nod, accepting
without question
their demands of me..
and i concede..
intently, i accept
the screams
their nonsensical lyrics
shatter my eardrums
daily reminders
how much pain
there is to
kill
or calm..
as long as
i keep them
alive
they will
continue
to keep me
down
guaranteed…
Kill them if they are going to keep you down!
Save them if they are going to produce poetry like this!
Kill them!
Save them!
Oh! Ms Schram-Williams, why is it that suffering too often seems to bring out the best in us?