rip it down

just a passing thought

I listen heart pounding,
I know what that sound is.
A demon awakes, whispering my name.
I tried change, it always ends the same.
Heart broke , boxes stacked one atop another.
New place, new man, I am my Mother.
I love you , my soul mate indeed.
This demon I must feed.
Build it up, rip it down.
on my knees , cold wet ground.
never enough , broken hearts , broken dreams.
" I am NOT my mother " demon hear my screams.

Reviews

[Onlyme]

Sounds like someone mother had schizophrenia or some other mental health problem where they heard things. And the fear of dreading you might end up having the illness is worrying you. In this poem.

[pam love]

THANKS...YOUR VERY CLOSE TO THE HEART OF THIS