They Are My Demons

A poem about owning your darkness

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Demons, the past, and my secrets
Seem to have shifted now
Still tortures only I see
An urge to call a number that isn’t there
A panic at being helpless
A word, a name
Tacked on at the end to humble
Tightness in my chest
And flicking my fingers
Instead of fiddling with the token in my pocket