To Be Slain Upon My Helping Hand Poem by Justin Henry

I must seem like such a worm to you,
I burrow deep down into you skin,
until I devour all of your vitals.
I must seem like such a leach to you.
I drain you of all your strength,
using it as my own.

The fires of life are growing, and I tire of these dances.
The truth of the conscience is revealed, as your ash is skattered.

I apologize for my interference.
I meant well
but I now realize what I've done.
I love compassion, but guilt doesn't love me.
What should I do?
Should let my demons run my life?
I don't know
But now you can't even fight for yourself
you call my help, but I can no longer give you it