Marcy

Our demons seem to come alive,
In the wee hours of the night,
Doing battle with our hearts,
As they sleep within the light,
Calling us inside our dreams,
Living in our tears,
Seeming to grow in leaps and bounds,
While they play upon our fears.
 
 
Memories seem to be their tool,
As they exert their nightly hold,
Hiding behind our hopes and dreams,
And those stories never told,
They build a wall inside our souls,
To block the sun from coming in,
Making it hard to understand,
Where darkness ends and daylight begins.
 
 
Events and places call to us,
Some we hear while some we ignore,
Always somehow seeming to know,
That love lives in our core,
As the cycle each day repeats,
Things are lost but some we gain,
And with the effort exerted at times,
Our tears leave telltale stains.
 
 
When our demons call to us,
Is there nothing else we hear,
And if love requires some sort of change,
Do we approach with constant fear,
As our demons sing their song,
Love sings it’s own tune,
While the moonlight filters down,
And in our dreams we touch the moon.
 
 
We hear the voices in the night,
That echo from the past,
And as they whisper out to us,
We’re reminded it’s love that lasts,
Miles might separate us,
As our demons scream their screams,
And though external tears don’t flow,
Inside they flow in streams.
 
 
Though our demons call to us,
Their voices we shouldn’t heed,
And though there isn’t one drop of blood,
A broken heart still bleeds,
Through it all one thing is clear,
Love overcomes it all,
And with love as our battle cry,
All our demons fall.

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