Demons that merely take the form of a whisper
They carefully slip into the dark rooms
They crawl under closed doors
They are watching for you
They wait until you are weak
Like lethal butterflies painted black
Always look for them because they are always there
Probing, prying, persuading, paralyzing, poisoning, and puncturing the very
heart of your tattered soul
They feed on nothing and need nothing.
They were, are, and always will be among us.
They hurt me here like being stabbed with the dull side of an apple.
And being bludgeoned to death with tissue paper

Can you hear them?
I should think not but you will feel them
Like an ice cube snuck into your pocket,
you will gradually become so keenly aware
That you pull it from your pocket, a melted lump,
A shadow of what you felt melting earlier
How small! How simple!
A mere second’s silence more and it will disappear
Melted away into nothing…

But it is to be noticed the ice cube has melted
And the water…
Spilled all over the floor
Soaking your pocket
making a mess of things
And it will be time yet before you can get rid of it.

 
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