These thoughts in my head;
Well,
Shouldn’t I say these demons?

These demons in my head,
They keep shouting,
Loud.
In my ear,
Cursing your name.

I wish i could take a gun and aim it at each
And every
Single
One
And shoot them dead.
But what would I do with the silence?

Would i be able to live with the echoey quiet,
Be alone with those memories that I've tried so hard to run away from?

As much as i want to finally be alone
With the quiet nothingness that silence brings;

I can’t.
I just
Can’t.

I don't love myself, nor the memories scorched and scarred into my skin that make me who I am. How can I when every single one is burned with a mean tongue slapped across my face, or a forgotten tear nobody ever cared enough to pay attention to?

But I love you.

I love you.

I keep repeating those three words.
Sometimes you hear them,
Sometimes you don't.
But it's a constant echo in my brain;

Just like you’re a movie in my head,

On repeat.

Day in
And
Day out.

Most nights I see you for who you are.
Most nights you are the same boy i fell so quickly,
And so hard for.

Most days i look at you and,
All I can see is the image created in my head.
No,
Burned in head.
Scorched into my brain so hot and fiery i can feel the burn long after the demon has retreated into his dark, cold cave;

Until he crawls back out,
Slowly,
Over time,
His screams getting louder and louder,
Echoing against the walls of my skull.
Like an endless cycle.

I love you.

But it's not fair that I'm bringing you along on this merry-go-ride.
I know you want off.
You’re begging the ride instructor to turn off the switch,
Unbuckle the seatbelt that’s tying you to me,
Let you live your life without worrying about the chaos running through my head.
Without worrying if you did something wrong.
Without worrying if i still love you,
Without worrying about your own demon on your shoulder.


I
Love
You.

But some days…
Some days i get this one demon,
Whose voice is so much louder than the rest;
He’s the one who loves to tell me all the terrible things you are doing and thinking
Instead of all the terrible things I am doing, like the rest of them.

And some days all i can hear
Is the screeching sound of that demon
Screaming in my ear
Telling me everything

I
Don’t
Want
To
Hear.

Because I don't want to hear it,
I don't want to hear any of it.

No matter what I say,
No matter what I think,
No matter what I do,
Some days I don’t see the real you.
Some days I only see the version of you that this demon wants me to see.

But maybe I’m just crazy.

Cos only crazy people talk back to the devil on their shoulder. It’s only the sane that ignore him.

Right..?