Deliver Me From Evil

Sleepless nights, following jumping and jittery convulsions on a cold night. A cold sweat plastered across my face, I wipe the beads, sending them scattering across the carpet. Eyes wide in darkness, searching for what is prominent. There it goes again, the boom in the still air, I'm as nervous as Ebony on that bathroom floor. I can hear the snarky whispering, nothing whimsical, just withering in the wind of the unknown. What the fuck could I have that you want? My peace? Joy? Sanity? The many moons that bind strength to my heart? Well you can't have it. I'm working hard to make you scarce, to steal the shit out of what you think is yours. You can't have my freedom, cause you're bound. You can't take my voice, cause I am loud. No temptation matches my desire to inspire the world. One at a time in a full room, each individual can count on my bet to change their lives. Can a cucoon shield my being from the evils of reality? In a vivid frame of mind I picture the road to emancipation. The anticipation itches in me as I wait patiently. Pondering in an energy sent through the confides of each thumb. Skin to skin, print to print as my mind imprints on optimism through tireless efforts to escape these pessimistic walls. All four corners square in on my peace, it's hard to rest to say the least. I carry the excessive weight, a bundle of nerves, so to speak. I done fought the devil and his crew for bout a week. And my battle isn't done. Sword in hand, I give King Arthur the boot before placing myself at the stone. My shield, custom made, my armor, God created. I've been enamoured with the shining gold, the sun complimented my battle suit. The crows caw, signaling that same old song. Goliath is a problem, but see, I've been placed at the stone. I'll sling a mighty shot with my fist balled, a ballad we'll both sing. Mine with joy, his with pain. Devil, you won't have the present me, you've already stolen the old and dead me, I never want her back. Jealousy I can see the green veins pumping your rage tirelessly. Why should I suffer at the hands of a fallen angel? I didn't ask God to cast you out of heaven. It was your own choice to make.

This poem is about: 
Me

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