The land of my Demons
I told them I can't sleep, through the nights I weep.
They hiss in my ear, calling me to their land.
I've seen the veiled damsels with nails like claws.
They caress my face, sketching a web of scars.
Their men have eyes burning with flames.
The fire like that in which Ibrahim was thrown.
The inflictions they conceive, I'm not a prophet to bore.
Their children bleed. Their blood can't congeal and there aint any doctor who could heal.
They'll find me and take me away. I screamed for help.
I swear I have a tracking chip in my scalp.
Don't touch me, I'm not yours. I better lock my doors and shut my eyes.
When I turned in my blanket, my bed was taming with lice.
I shreiked in pain. A needle hit my vein, inducing me in nightmarish sleep.
A shadow swept when my deamons crept.
Shackling my wrists and ankles, chastising me with whip. It sank through my skin, slashing, slicing.
I can only gasp but can't make a sound.
A distant voice said, my destiny is bound to paraphrenia or schizophrenia enhanced by insomnia.
'the danger he is to himself is so grim.
I hope assylum is the best place for him'
Then sent me to die among veiled damsels, flamed pupils and hemophelic children.
The land of my deamons from where I can't return. I can't shun
I'm finally done.
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