Demons
Whe aren't the unmet minions
of the underworld
Nor are we the cannibalistic dictators
of the trees in the forest
We are the creatures
who with blood-red visions
Ingesting your very dreams
and turning them into nightmares
What you know is wrong and right
we will make you question
And the angst-ridden flames
will spew from our mouths
The beats of your doubts
grow louder and louder
As we grow
prouder. and. prouder.
We are your first-hand ridicule
We taunt wetantalize
We are the forbidden sounds
behind your bolted cellar door
that creep up through the cracks
of your old wooden floor
We are all the dust shaped from
delusion and lies
We are the self-devouring
ego which you perpetrate
We are the daunting destroyers
of your very worth
We are the blood-thirsty zeppelins
of the future, present and past
And how long shall we last?
To which we answer:
"That's in your power, young peasant."
We are the dreamers of the dreams,
And we are the creators of our demons.
©dartemis
D