He creeps into my mind
his steps crushes
my consciousness,
conquers my
power of thinking.

The quiver in my voice,
as he slits
my throat
with his insanity,
slaughters my own people .

The words come out
like a fireball
coerced by his torture.
Bloodshed of his fierce battle
spreads upon my sentient soul.

The demon dances maliciously
wining over my pneuma
to the sound of my
cry in delirium.

– Kritika Vashist

(Image courtesy: platformphoto)


58 thoughts on “Demon

  1. The story of the imperious demon dwelling inside! Another beautiful and such a strongly felt piece of poetry. The imagery of words as fireballs and bloodshed on your sentient soul – Excellence of the poet is what they speak of 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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