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My Demons

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My demons don’t come howling at me anymore
but they are constantly mewling at my door.
And so I give up and wearily let them all in
to listen to their endless scrabbling again.
It seems they are puzzled at the tears I now shed
because they are not spilling from self-contempt and dread.
Those demons’ black eyebrows rise in surprise,
And I see “Oyahright,m-hm sure” in their eyes.
The light in and with me that I’ve been searching for
has taken their demanding, pedantic place on the floor.
I know they don’t like it, yet I can see
they have begun to accept that I will be free
to walk in the warmth and bask in the light,
no longer joining them as they hunt in the night.
And so I finally shoo every one of them out
‘til next time, still quieter, they come scratching about.

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