Demon keepers, we,
making cages of our bones to keep them,
faces into tomes to teach them
the way we weather.

The creatures in our trees,
not free for our weaves
of memory,
fall like leaves if you let them.
Easy like dying,
without even trying,
let them be there,
and when bare
are the trees
I see

I don't have demons,
the demons are me.