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2017-12-05 | |
I am never alone with myself,
My demons are always giving me orders,
Like dust on a photograph forgotten on a shelf,
So, are they sitting on my shoulders.
I paint my demons, get them out
And maybe if my canvas would come alive
They will stop fighting making me shout,
If I'd just color my black and white life.
I write my demons, set them free,
Make them run on thousands of pages,
They will live stories like never seen,
And will be remembered for ages.
I sing my demons, make them dance
They smile and spin me round and round,
Ask for acceptance and I give them a chance,
They can live with me, but don't make a sound.
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