I finally let my demons win,
They whisper like giants, patience so thin.
In harbored of darkness I conceded my fight,
I'll no longer actively seek for the light.

My soul starts reclusing, hoping to be unborn.
Thieving shadows, my hopes they scorned.
Emotions raw, exposing myself naked bare,
A fatal step in despair's seductive entrapping lair.

A heart once ablaze, killing in one air blow.
With each pulse, I let the sorrow grow.
No armor left to guard my core,
I welcome Satan and whatever he has in store.

In the dim glow of candlelight, I stand,
Clutching the remnants of who I am.
A ritual of despair begins,
Binding me in the demons' hymn.

Chanting words I scarcely know,
I let the darkness freely flow.
An offering of my spirit's core,
A pact sealed in the silence's roar.

A dagger's edge against my skin,
The bloodied ink, my soul's chagrin.
In this ceremony, I find release,
Anointing wounds, composing this piece.

I scream, I cry, in boundless silence,
This battleground abnegating solace.
But in surrender, there's a peace,
A promise that pain shall soon cease.

I now let my demons take their place,
In the hollow of my heart's embrace.
No fight, no struggle, no facade,
Just my demons sharing a drop of my blood.

How would I know I’m not a heavy-weight,
A burden those I love could start to hate?
Each word I speak feels like a sharpened stone,
Thrown into hearts that ache, yet not my own.

How can I be sure their light stays intact,
Unstained by shadows that my soul attracts?
What if my truths are daggers they can’t bear,
And I leave scars in places unaware?

How would I know their kindness doesn’t fade,
Eroded by the cost of love they’ve paid?
What if my pain becomes the thing they fear,
A haunting voice that whispers when I’m near?

How can I trust they’d hold their steady ground,
When I pull them to where I can’t be found?
What if my sorrow seeps into their core,
And they’re not who they were, not anymore?

What if I speak, and silence fills the air,
A proof their patience vanished unaware?
Do they resent the weight my words impose,
Or wish I’d keep my sadness undisclosed?

How would I know they won’t begin to flee,
Escaping from the heaviness of me?
What if their love gives out beneath the strain,
And all I’ve left are echoes of my pain?

I’m torn between the need to reach and hide,
Unsure if they can stand what’s locked inside.
Am I a poison slowly spreading through,
Or just a soul too lost to find the truth?

That’s why I think it’s better left this way,
Alone with all the words I’ll never say.
To die with silence wrapped around my chest,
And free them from the weight of my unrest.

In quiet fields, I stand where winds have blown,
My petals scattered, seeds once brightly sown.
The world has tried to tear away my core,
Still, I root to live this life I abhor.

The sky is heavy, clouds a pressing weight,
I’ve stood in shadows, weathered storms of fate.
And though I bend, my roots remain below,
To find the strength that others seldom show.

Each gust has taken more than I could keep,
My dreams, like seeds, were carried while I sleep.
But still, I bloom, though weary in the light,
For even fragile blooms can hold their fight.

The years have left me cracks I cannot mend,
But in each scar, a lesson to defend.
I’ve learned to face the wind, though I may fall,
And fly again, even without control.

In every fall, I’ve found a quiet grace,
The kind that only time can now embrace.
For every step that took away my past,
I’ve grown in ways I never thought would last.

A dandelion, weathered by the years,
I wear my scars, but let go of my fears.
Though bent, I stand, a fragile bloom in air,
A flower rooted deep in quiet care.

On days like these, I pause and look within,
To measure all the distance I have been.
The seasons turn, and I have felt their mark,
Yet here I bloom, a flower in the dark.

In cracks I find the strength to greet the day—
The roots I’ve grown, no wind can pull away.
No light ahead, though I can clearly see,
That even in the dark, I’ll still be me.

I have struggled so long, but I have thrived,
Now that acceptance keeps my will alive.
And though the world may see me worn and torn,
I'm THEJHONDELION who walked through thorns.