Can you hear them?
Screaming.
Crying.
Pleading.
Begging.Do you know what they want?
Mercy.
Death.
Help.
To be heard.That's all they want.
They want to be seen, and heard, and helped.
They crave the sweet relief of death.
They crave it like a drug. Like the burn of whiskey.
Like the coolness of a blade on the hellfire raging inside.Do you know what they say?
"Help me!"
"There is no hope."
"I can't do this!"
"You can't die yet."They say, "I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
They say, "I can't trust you. Go away."
They say, "Let me go! Set me free!"
They say, "Let me be. It's not safe."
They scream, "Feel the insanity you forced on me!"
They plead, "Help me fix myself! I can't stand this anymore!"
They scream, "Hate me for the monster you turned me into!"
They beg, "Love me for how broken I've become."
Can you hear them now?
I hope not.
Because they never stop.
Never rest.
Never quiet.
Always screaming, crying, pleading, begging.
Always...
YOU ARE READING
Inner Demons of a Fallen Soul
PoetryJust a bunch of thoughts and shitty poems I wrote to express my feelings.