Demons.
My demons are like a dead,
Decaying branch, when a maggot
Of a fly feasts on the remains
Of a dead soul....
My soul’s gone
Yet my demons feast,
Taking me by the horns,
As I slowly turn into a beast.
With no one to control me,
I start ripping my own skin.




![Savage Whispers 1 - Mea [ENG]](https://cdn-gcs.inkitt.com/vertical_storycovers/ipad_ac1c3ac2d24d2eb3a53269595f0719f1.jpg)




I love this so much, I'm so happy you reached out to me. I really like your poems!
Waw, it's so deep.
nice one