No thoughts
arriving to inspire,
just the ones
that like to conspire.
Telling you
that you’re a waste.
That it would be
in everyone’s interests
that you made haste.
That demon
on your shoulder,
the one
that you can
never get hold off.
Talking
in your ear,
telling you
what to fear.
He never
gives you rest.
Always putting
you through some test.
Even when you sleep,
he is there
to take a peep.
To make sure
when you dream
it always
finishes with a scream.

We never are really alone, are we?
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A fact.
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The demons happily resting upon our shoulders. This is tragically beautiful
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