Today the demons win.
The ones who scream until I can no longer hear,
who steal facades of joy,
who make me want to die.
The ones who say I’m not good enough,
or smart enough,
or worthy, or whole.
That I’m not valuable, but disgusting,
and I’ve nothing to give but more failure,
The demons who grab me by the throat and inject the images I’ll never forget,
who make my skin crawl,
who make every wound, every hurt,
rise up physically,
and attack until I can no longer move.
Who steal energy,
infect with overwhelm and loneliness,
and fight to crush my bones on the path to what’s next.
Who tell me there is no next,
except more pain,
more shredding of my flesh.
They make me wish the man who raped me had just ended my life when he could’ve.
Living ended then anyway.
The demons tell me there’s no point in trying,
that one more bullshit prayer is a waste of pity and will do no good,
and that I will forever live in this cloud, strapped to these chains, choked in their grasp.
Today I can’t fight.
Today, the demons win.