The demons in my head

In the silence of the night

is when my demons delight.

 

They revel in my idleness

and bask in my helplessness.

 

Their voices are quiet and yet so loud

"come morning, will you be proud?"

 

proud of your actions from the night before.

They gleefully taunt me with this rapport.

 

Today is no different

and I draw no inference.

 

A silent night it truly is

an unholy one that loves to tease.

 

It teases of my unknown purpose...

Who am I? Is my destiny foreclosed?

 

Am I supposed to heal the world

Or should I just bill the lords?

 

Steal from the privileged

to enrich my own village.

 

Is my purpose to be a villain

and live in a lofty villa?

 

Am I bigger than my destiny

or will my destiny get the best of me?

 

Is my ambition selfish

and does it make me less girlish?

 

will I rule the world till i am old

or will I lose my soul and fold?

 

What am I? A leader or a follower?

Will they follow or say, "throw her far?"

 

Am I a poison that kills 

or a drug that heals?

 

Will I be the difference 

or just another mistress?

 

Am I enough

or am I a one off?

 

The silence teases

and I am uneasy

 

Que sera sera?

Such nonsense comfort if ever they were

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This poem is about: 
Me

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