Demons, demons,
they bury themselves
into this iceberg.
And with a pick,
I start digging, thinking
that by digging them out
I'm removing them.
But instead, I'm releasing
their darkness into my heart,
into my head.
Whatever doesn't kill us
makes us stronger. The
asshole that said that went
crazy.
And the blistering cold
outmatches my simple
blizzard-season coat,
if I retreat I commit myself
to failure. Or at least,
that's what those demons
are whispering into my ear,
wanting so badly to become
the box which Pandora opens,
time and time again.
Tell me I'm not alone,
that the sweat on my brow
from all this digging is
sinking in.
They will not win. I will not
keep digging into the ice,
I will not keep digging into
the venom.
Instead, let me disappear into
the snowstorm, let me tend
the fire in my heart, let it lead
me to the Source, so I may
be at peace.
Is that so difficult?
No comments:
Post a Comment