Demons

by

Rick Bandy

Hold tight to your morals, your lessons learned
While sitting in naiveté’s lap.
And deny all the fears that you’re bound up in
Your snug-fitting, protective wrap.

So struggle and cry, might be easier to die
Than wrestling the demons of your own design.
You seem destined to fail as your efforts pale
When weighed against the ever-increasing,
Self-inflicted wounds of limitation.

Is it healing you want?

Or last rites?

If not healing, one fate must await your estate.
You’ll need coppers to cover your eyes.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Twelfth Night
by: Joyce Hemsley
from: Sunderland, England, UK

To visit all of Rick Bandy's poems, click HERE

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