The Room

“Simple. Psychological. Symbolic.”

The room of silence echoes sirens.

Sound raises demons from their sleep.

It’s time to eat.

When your shadow marks its territory,

purpose becomes peripheral.

Though we can’t see what’s invisible,

demons ride your sleeve.

They ingest empaths without empathy,

armed with disastrous ideas.

They ride backs through torment,

watch—and point.

They say, get anointed.

But with every negative, there is a positive.

Light will always shine in the dark.

The room of noise collapses into silence.

Sound decreases.

Demons slumber in peace.

It’s time for my angels to speak.