True story.
Always lurking deep
There is an anger
Then there is the Other
The one that feeds
She revels in it
Anger and pain
From within and without
From those around us
My Demon is patient
My resolve is silent
I lean on Her in crises
We are impenetrable
Childhood trauma
Stifling Her over the years
She is maturity’s curved blade
Perhaps it’s loneliness
Drastic times
Giving desires a face
Perhaps it’s therapy
Our coping mechanism
Ah, slip of the tongue
I think I’m regressing
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