Feeding the Demons

I must feed these demons that tear at my soul

For they hunger and thirst for my death

An offering of sorts, to appease and console

For they're lusting to covet my breath

The skin on my wrists begin to sigh

As the blade tries to comfort my veins

The death angel waits, he slowly draws nigh

Only a prayer for forgiveness remains

The demons rejoice in lieu of their prize

I can feel their claws holding tight

The darkness replaces the light in my eyes

I move farther away from the light

The floor turning crimson, the demons now drink

They grow drunk on this nectar of life

Death growing closer, he stands at the brink

And licks at the blood on my knife

The demons devour my last will to live

And mercy fades away like a mist

I gave them a gift that no man should give

Though I probably won't even be missed

Reviews

[Patricia B. Hepler]

Rhythmic. Dark yet extremely profound.

...'The floor turning crimson, the demons now drink
They grow drunk on this nectar of life...'

The demons were stronger than he. What he didn't understand was they selfishly lied to him (of course) since he definitely would be missed.

~ pat

[Hidden]

I fell in love with this poem quickly after I read it. It's beautifully dark and has easily become my favorite poem.