In the depths of our minds, where shadows creep,
Dwell the demons of fear, where they silently seep.
They whisper tales of dread, and of despair,
In the quiet corners of the night, where light is rare.

These demons, they taunt us, with their chilling voice,
Feeding on our fears, taking joy in our choice.
They're the embodiment of darkness, the essence of fright,
A haunting presence, in the still of the night.

They dance in our nightmares, with a wicked delight,
Thriving in our terror, in the absence of light.
They're the echoes of our doubts, the seeds of our pain,
A relentless storm, beneath the pouring rain.

But as dawn approaches, with its gentle glow,
A revelation emerges, a truth to bestow.
These demons, these creatures of the night,
Are but figments of imagination, taking flight.

Born from our fear of the unknown and the dark,
They're illusions, shadows, leaving their mark.
They hold no power, no control, no sway,
Except for the fear we allow them, in our dismay.

For the darkness is not a dwelling for dread,
But a canvas for dreams, where hopes are fed.
And the demons that haunt us, in the depths of the night,
Are but reflections of our fears, not creatures of fright.

So let us confront these demons, face them head on,
And watch as they vanish, with the arrival of dawn.
For they're merely illusions, born from our fear,
And in the light of courage, they disappear.

In the dance with our demons, let us find our might,
To embrace the darkness, and find our own light.
For the night is not a realm of fear to embark,
But a journey into ourselves, in the quiet and the dark.


© D.mia