Your Demons

Da Bounca

Some of the spellings might not be correct. I'm not sure if I like this poem or not. Comments of any description are welcome.


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Bolts of thought bound through the corridoors of my mind,
some I dare not follow, for fear of what there I may find.

I feel the darkness growing from inside,
from the depths of unconciousness,
where the monster in me resides.

There is a way to force the voices still,
but the more i travel deeper,
the voices, they grow shrill.

Journey on I must,
to the centre of all hate,
a battle for control,
not yet written is my fate.

Logic is my weapon,
reason is my shield,
chaos is my weakness,
but I must never yield.
Secretly I lust for it,
to release myself, give in,
but I still have strength,
and opportunity to win.

So I travel further, into the depths of the unknown,
where I face the demons and their king upon his throne.

At first I am confronted by the banshees of self-doubt,
but the power of belief diminished their attacks to nout.

Their screams of terror echoed endlessly as they began to flee,
and the demons in their hundreds, were drawn unto me.
They mock as they strike at me,
their mouths full of spite,
I defend faithfully,
but then a thought...
are they right?
That is when the first blow lands, it brings me to my knee,
that alone enrages me, and righteously I break free,
of their curse and spells of magic, that enchant apathy,
and viciously I strike back, they incur the wrath that is me.

Wading through the demons dead, tempered soul and steel,
blood-lust not fully fed, I push on with zeal.
Toward the throne room ploughing straight ahead,
there I see the darkness, the eternal, the dread.

Suprised, unexpected, my opponent turned out to be,
a distorted visage of the creature, daily that I see.

In battle we thought, we fought, we saught for an opening.
Firm and taut, a gap was wrought, myself I brought to knee.
The head I caught, it's life-force naught, victorious, I was free.

dan_y

you should write power ballads for the ghost ballet spectacle.