in the calm of winter,
when the warm rays have scattered and hidden
behind the concrete buildings,
in the dark of the night,
when the city sleeps and the machines hum
as they dream,
in the empty space of my mind
when there isn’t space for anyone else,
that is when the demons come.
they have no form or shape,
but they are heavy as lead.
they like the dark, they like the cold,
they like to sneak in to bed with me and whisper.
they tell me things that sound like truths.
they slowly nudge the hope out of me
until it oozes and drips down my cheeks,
falling on the convoluted sheets.
they say that I am unlovable.
they are very convincing.
they show me images of the past of all those who did not love me.
they show me images of how others are loved in ways I cannot understand.
they tell me I will never understand.
they explain to me how it is going to be,
as they caress my ears, stroke my hair.
they tell me no one will love me because no ever has.
they will convince me that what will appear
as kindness from others is only pity.
they explain that I will be placed
behind a glass cage
from which no sounds will escape.
the whimpers will not be heard
from the people outside.
from the glass I can appear on the stage
where I will start the show of normalcy.
from inside my cage,
from behind my glass,
I am only allowed to watch the world
and see joy and the sorrow,
but I will not feel it.
the glass will be thick and it will
separate me from everyone else.
I can scream all I want,
I can tell people about the cage,
but it does not mean
I will not return to it.
and I am frightened because
it seems like it will never end.
and it seems like everything they are saying is true.
and I don’t know how to leave the cage.