In the recesses of my mind,
I lock away my demons.
They’re nasty little bastards,
each one cunning, persistent,
with their own unique personality.
They’re kept behind heavy, iron bars.
Large padlocks are welded shut and chained together;
however… these locks only hold for so long.
Untended to, uncared for, ignored,
pried and clawed at—
they rust, wither, and crack.
And over time…,
the demons begin to slip free and reveal themselves.
The biggest of them,
we’ll call her The Alpha,
is hard to silence for long.
A looming, shadowy figure,
she stands at 20 feet tall.
She wears a mask, though it’s only a half.
The mask covers the left side of her face;
mouth stretched into a wide, toothy grin.
it has widened,
I find myself pitying her.
Looking at the right side,
it’s not hard to see why.
Her lips are permanently distorted into an anguished frown.
The visible eye is dead, empty.
The light, if it was ever there, has long since left.
As much as I want to hate her…,
Her existence wasn’t her choice.
She was born with me,
has always been with me,
but was simply given life,
by a demon that is not my own.
Clustered around her,
much smaller in size,
there are many others.
They take different forms,
They are all unique to one and other.
as with any pack,
The Alpha must have her Betas.
Do not, however, mistake my demons to be primordial.
If they weren’t,
how would they know when and where to strike?
Beta number one:
she stands a mere three feet short of the alpha.
She constantly glows a dull red,
though when my pitch-black companion only reveals to me that toothy grin,
Beta One burns a blinding crimson.
She forces The Alpha, despite her status,
the worst of things.
Does it matter?
Not to Beta One.
And despite the stretch of fanged, grinning insanity across The Alpha’s exposed left side,
desire for the release of death nearly emanating from The Alpha’s very being wraps frigid fingers around your heart and squeezes,
leaving only a pit of rage in the center of your chest and the sound of your own heaving breaths as you struggle of find oxygen behind.
Beta One is the danger sitting atop the mountain peak to which The Alpha must frequently,
deep beneath the base of the mountain,
lurking in the crevices of abyss of the ravine below,
lies a sickeningly pathetic creature.
Beta Number Two.
pointed ears drooped,
and narrow shoulder slumped deeply,
he mumbled seeds of doubt into the confused Alpha’s ear.
Though only when weak—
only when her unmasked face is exposed—
can the gargantuan Alpha fall prey to the diminutive creature’s words of despair.
Beta Two stands a full seven feet short of his massive superior.
When Beta Two strikes,
you can feel the same pleading, pained, tortured grasp at your heart once more.
The Alpha speaks directly to you,
as if communicating telepathically:
‘Set me free.’
‘Do whatever it takes.’
‘Just. Make. It. Stop.’
A desperate plea for freedom.
Every word fills your lungs,
invades your body,
permeates your thoughts.
You are only able to feel her pain,
her blind, frantic search for relief,
whether that be by aid…
You feel what she feels,
yet you are able to do nothing for her.
She is trapped with this creature,
as with the other,
until he tires himself out,
or some “benevolent” being offers their support,
pulling her away,
when the kicking,
and screaming isn’t enough.
It never is.