Her Demons

She sat on the floor, up against the wall
Watching passively as her world crumbled
They tormented her and called her names
And her life became a mere assortment of broken pieces.

Sometimes they’d be too much to take
And her mental pain would not go away
So she cut her arms ‘till blood ran free
And they all laughed in a maleficent manner.

They broke her until she was too broken to go on
Stayed with her each day and night
They could not be avoided, they could not be faced
She wasn’t strong enough to send them away.

They were demons, for sure
Dressed in darkness and depression
They weren’t just any demons, though
They were her demons.

For years she lived with these creatures around
Allowed them to drown her in their hatred and loath
While she faked a smile
Until her scars couldn’t bear the pain anymore.

One lonely evening on a Saturday night
The demons stood around her as she took out a knife
Their cruel voices taunting and encouraging her soul
Until she plunged the knife right into her chest.

They feasted on her blood and watched her spirit leave
Her lifeless body seemingly asleep
They felt no guilt or sense of sorrow
The only looked forward to destroying their next victim.

Once in heaven, her soul found peace,
And one day she said to a friend, ‘life was cruel’
'Ah', said the friend, 'that’s the thing about life
Isn’t it a pity that there is no way of surviving it?'