Listen,
they both whisper,
one sickly sweet,
the other urgent
and honest,
one wants what's best for me,
the other doesn't care,
he's the demon in my ear,
my very own tormentor,
and although his voice is too good to be true,
I feel compelled to listen,
to give in to this clever offender,
my will wanes,
but the other calls,
my guardian angel,
the one of truth,
his voice is filled with just enough urgency
and care to be right,
this raging war has been fought,
fought,
and fought again,
you'd think it'd be over,
or at least close to the end,
but it's not,
it won't be until I'm gone,
and though none of us,
NOT ONE of us can determine who'll triumph in the end,
for now,
for now I brush the demon off my shoulder,
and watch him fall and slither away,
he'll be back,
maybe not today,
maybe not tomorrow,
but he'll be back,
he always comes back