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My Demon

Trauma takes on a life of its own.

I build a demon, breathe life into it,
give it shape and form,
ugly and angry.

Name it with a strong name,
dance around it,
scream at it some.

I feel better
and then it leaves
to help someone else.

Other people I`ve known,
grew tumors and died silently.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Aug 2010
About this poem:
My dad wrote this:) I was often his muse, sometimes just out of the blue I`d give him 1 word to shape a poem around and in that, he ended up writing a lot of poetry at the time. This is one of my favorites.

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