Esophageal spasms sever breathes

Squelched lungs from internal pressures

Swift thoughts becoming convictions

Seeming to soon be posthumous

 

How does it transform

The inky black shadow that lurks

How does it transport

The undetected swindler that robs you

 

Ruminating on the moment it mugged me

Reminiscing on the freedom I once felt

As the warmth on the apples of my cheeks flees

The piercing icicles from his body enters and encapsulates

My poise plummets

 

But it feels so easy to blame the thief

As they are the succubus

Leaving me a lifeless rind

Draining my sweet zest

But how can I hate a part of myself

 

The marauder is cold-hearted

He is the extension of the serpent

He is finger that pulls the trigger

He is the voice that exists within me

 

Betrayed by my own mind

Insecurity creeping up causing fear

Fear that others will think of me just as lowly

 

I must martyr the masochist

So he’ll stop shrieking sweet sorrows sadistically

I must murmur many affirmations  

So my inner executioner can kill a piece of me