Fiendish Friends

Each hour brings a new demon,
More tortuous than the last.
They stab me, rip my flesh,
Pour alcohol in the open wounds.
They laugh and shriek in my ears
Slicing pain through my core.

–And laugh,
And laugh again.

They know that cut is the deepest;

To laugh at the fool;

A fool for loving you.

Now I wait the hours
Before the possibility
Of knowing you’re still there;

But you may not be;

Then they’ll return,
My demon companions.

by Lee Ann Schaffer

Comments (1)

This is wonderful poem I like it