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My Demon
My demon came out today,
I stood in front of my father,
my loving father,
And it burst up my rib cage,
brushing it's needle feathers,
against my heart,
and clawed up my throat.
I could have forced it down,
swallowing it back,
deep inside me.
But, I didn’t.
I let it loose.
It looked through my mouth,
at my father,
and grinned.
It let loose a torrent,
of hot, acidic words,
That hit my father’s face,
and I watched.
He became a sculpture.
Face,
an ashen mask of disgust and disbelief and
sorrow.
His own child.
Hurting him.
I watched.
Like an onlooker watching,
a car accident.
I watched my demon smashing my father,
internally,
and I wanted to scream,
IT’S NOT ME!
But, my demon retreated,
into my soul,
I felt it settle into it’s black home,
And I stood,
tears,
drip
drip
Sorry, Dad.
He shook his head,
the wounds
of my demon’s
lashing words,
Still raw, still bleeding.
I stuttered,
It was my demon, Dad.
He smiled,
eyes crinkling
and he looked so tired
beaten.
He opened his mouth,
voice hoarse,
and whispered, shakily,
The demon is you.
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