My Demon

My Demon
By A.Z. Foreman

With thanks to Alexander Pushkin and George Orwell

Back when I still was new and thrilled
By every turn of weather,
Saw things of victory and beauty
And called them joy forever,

I dove into myself contented
To let what would be, be
A world of sunken cities rising
From the defeated sea...

My crop of hopes and dreamt potential
Was stricken with sudden blight,
As a certain dark comedic Demon
Knifed my eyes open at night.

He showed me such grave times, would ask me
Where I bought my gilt chains.
His probing grin and loathing laughter
Poured acid through my veins.

When I fell dreaming, he revealed
The filth in which I had slept,
And if I thought about the future,
He whipped me until I wept.

Calling my world hallucination
And me a junkie of lies.
The beauty, the power and the glory
He taught me to despise.

Dawned on my night of trysting, left me
Daybroken, in disgust,
Among a caste of slavish rebels
Too innocent to trust,

Seeing the unity of nations
In their own vomit drowned,
The oozing gash of civilization
So deep, not so profound.

I'd dreamt of living in my own world.
I wake to find that I do.
I wasn't born for an age like this.
Was anyone? Were you?

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