Negotiations of the Mind

She stands on the edge of a yellow meadow

Her hands are coated with anxiety

Each breeze stinging her finger tips

Her tongue is a brick

Building walls around the thoughts

That want nothing more than to be spoken

She gazes faultlessly at her demons

As they walk the fishing line in front of her

They say “fight your demons”

They lick their lips

Ravenous, with claws sharp enough to shred through confidence

One more thought, one more step, one less hope

She balls her fists ready for a duel

But then she remembers

They also say “keep your enemies closer”

They crave the warmth

From that sticky red cement flowing from her heart

“I’d eat you for dessert, if I didn’t need your body for survival”

They can be such hypocritical contradictions

The demons want to wreak havoc on the entrails of her mind

And she wants to explore

But perhaps she should just stay in the meadow.