Demon

My soul has been burned, burned by the words of others, burned by friends, burned by past loves, burned by the worst scum walking upon the face of this earth. My soul has been burned, burned past the point of searing, scorching heat, burned like the fiery depths of hell were the worst of humanity dwell, burned to the point were thought and reason become irrelevant and all that is left is pure undisputed rage.

A twisted miracle...a birth, a commencement, an emergence...a twisted miracle. Birthed from this rage, a demon. A demon spawned of hatred and disgust, animosity and rancor, resentment, revulsion, and carnal revenge. A demon with the strength to manipulate the figurative and the literal being of my soul.

There is no reasoning with it, no bribes, no pleases for mercy, no heroic attempts to overwhelm or over power, no clever schemes, or the simple strand of hope that we all cling too when the worlds at its darkest. No all this is mute, the worst possible event occurs, the one thing we all hate the most about our inner demons, the demons that tear apart our innards, the demons that swell within our stomachs, tear at our hearts, consuming our lungs and burning our throats as they escape through our mouths with every life shortening breath we take...we accept them.

We cry, I cry, my soul cries, it cries knowing what’s inside, it cries because it is without strength, it cries because it knows the world isn’t meant to be like this, it cries because it knows pain like this was never meant to be felt by any mortal being, an endless torture, of torment, anguish, tribulation, and affliction.

My soul cries, and the tears swell, and puddle, become a wet blanket across the plains of ash within my existence. Becoming a lake, a sea, an ocean, a body of water hanging above the flames, hanging above the demons head, hanging, suspended, floating through my essence like clouds in the wind.

And it falls

My catharsis, my rebirth, my baptism is pain, the freezing rain of my anguish does not soften the fires within my soul, no it transforms them into the nature of air and steam and gas all of which burns the flesh and the essence within me, and when it cools, the hardened crust expands, expanding the void, expanding the barren wasteland, expanding the blackened dessert where my demon once roamed freely.

And my soul rebuilds…it is not a victory, righteousness has not won, good defeating evil is but a childs dream, it is simply a pause, an endless cycle of internal pain, where the demon grows stronger, the pain intensifies, and the rain drops of fallen tears swell even greater.