They know you more than any other,
trying to make you suffer.
Making you scared, aware, and shed a tear,
most likely to make you fear.
The way humans do,
yet in a figure of a demon too.
With eyes of darkness,
teeth of glass,
ribs of barbed wire,
and hands of rusted brass.
Waiting for you to hold on to them,
to pierce your heart to give a damn.
To make you feel hopeless,
from the figures of insecurities.
Haunting you, and judging,
until you realize that a much larger figure appears.
One who doesn't need to punch,
yet just needs one touch.
A figure who shines the truth so bright,
towards the one that produces insecurities from your mind.
That figure is your soul,
which is the only figure you will ever know...
Share This Poem