something i wanted more legible than my handwriting
I feel the Devil incarnate; a twisted man. I know where my place shall be, a space reserved in Hell. Haunted, by the Spectres and Demons; those crafted in my mind and dreams.
I feel them. Constantly circling, in my mind like a top, Creating enemies and war; at the the start of every conversation. Truly testing the will and strength of ones mind.
It is a battle; nay a war, that feels never ending. Between yourself and the shadows. With light being so faint; And poison the only way to stave off the darkness.
The panic, and fear; should not be, yet they persist. Too damn stubborn to cry for help, alone we stand. A solitary figure on this beaten barricade.
Exhausted, Broken. The Resolve of man fading. But we must hold. Hold the demons as far we can.
For they are ours, not the worlds.
Our fight alone.
Or so it feels.
