"We're all trying to kill our demons." She said with a simple shrug of her shoulders. "We just have different ways of doing it."
"Oh yeah?" I asked. "How do you kill yours?" I waited, expecting her to tell me that she drank too much or that every inhale of a cigarette was fighting that battle.
"I'm different." She said after a moment. "I'm the demon people are trying to kill."
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From The Book I'll Never Write
PoetrySomething I had to write in order to feel again.
