My Demons

Late at night
Deep inside the darkest corners of my mind
A voice whispers
Its steady pull is winning
Though soft, it threatens to silence the tiny thread of logic that I cling to.
Time is not my friend, and with the dawn comes disappointment once again
The new day dawns, still, the voice whispers on
Like a leech clinging, pulling, ripping the life from my veins.

I am weak
Held together by a few desperate threads
The voice persists
Telling me they're not enough
Too thin, these threads will break and be shredded by the darkness that presses me down
Yet it tells me more, the voice still mocks, telling me I'll fail as before
Even in this

Melynda Hoeksema

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