My Weapons, My Battles

The quieter I am online,
The more I write.

Write,
my hand
by which
I write.

My pen.

The tool of
my Art --
No trade for me.

I write
because
I love it.

Because the
Words
FIGHT
their own
way
out of me.

When I
Stifle them,
Do not allow
them
their own voice:
the demons
of depression
and despair
only grow louder
in my head.

The unwritten words
fester
and ROT
and eat
at my happiness
with
the acid
of their
discontentment.

Until depression
becomes dismay,
and tears fill
once happy
eyes

A smile
no more.
Face,
free of the
lines of laughter
and holes
called dimples;
become
a salt flat of flesh.

Be gone
young demons --

I have fought
MANY a fight
with older
and mightier
than thou!

My Pen
swift be
my sword --

If it
be not
quick enough --

mine fingers
shall soon
have a more
virulent weapon
against ye!

a keyboard
shall
soon arrive!

Swift be
the fingers
that shall
slay these
demons --

Like those
before them!

Depression -
Despair -
Demons of my Dreams -
Be gone from ME
I seek Divinity!!!!