Demons

A Poem by Curing

Sometimes it's not demons that break us,
the times when the angels forsake us

Sometimes they're all that remain.
Their whispers giving voice to the pain.

The pain that burns to the core;
allowing tears, once silent, to pour.

Saltier than a draught from the sea,
yet sweeter than we dreamed they could be.

Yes, these demons which lay bare our soul,
also allow us to regain control.

And the faster we flee from our pain,
the quicker we are driven insane.