My Poetry. Demons in my mind!

Living in constant fear?
So what is brutally new today?
At war with my own raw emotions,
This internal conflict will forever stay.

Darkened hours consuming all the day,
never a glimmer of redeeming light;
I battle these cold, coiling demons,
knowing I am destined to lose the fight.

Who are these mocking voices?
They are free, existing only in my head,
delivering constant, chilling terror,
wishing me utterly, finally dead.
Medication stems the flood,
but only for a brief, fragile while;
the language remains atrocious,
deadly and horribly vile.

"Do it," the voice commands daily,
a hundred times, a hundred ways,
never granting me a moment's peace;
it is the only message that it says.
What is the purpose of this torment?
Give me a breath, give me a break!
This consuming horror is for real,
no fantasy—it is frighteningly awake.

Never the sun, only shadow and night,
like a doomed moth drawn to a lethal light.
They seek to completely overcome me,
and I am forced to perpetually fight.
The only true peace you will ever get
is when this struggle finally ends;
then the relentless torment will be over—
if only death is where your peace depends.

© William Sinclair Manson 2025