my demons can swim
which is problematic
to say the least
i can’t drown them in tears
they claw back up to the surface,
digging their nails into my skin until
it bleeds and they survive and reawaken my fears

my demons can see in the dark
which is problematic
to say the least
i can’t hide from them at night
a blanket is just cotton, not comfort
and they can find me there
coiled in bed like a small animal, trembling with fright

my demons can sit on my shoulder
which is problematic
to say the least
i can’t just push them away
they get heavier with every passing hour
a reminder, a constant pressure
i'm afraid they’ll get too heavy one day

my demons can grow wings
which is problematic
to say the least
because then it gets hard to tell
the demons look like angels
and i don’t know who to
listen to and who belongs in hell

and sometimes i think there are no demons
which is problematic
to say the least
because if there are no demons
then all i’m left with is me