I sit alone in my room at night
With nothing but the darkness to confide
So many thoughts run through my mind
So many thoughts that they burn my eyes till I am blind.
But although I cannot always see him
I know he's there.
He waits for me
Looking at me with his demonic little glare.
I tell him to go
But he always stays
No matter what…I hate him either way.
He haunts me-dwelling in my soul and mind
But unfortunately, I am the only one who can see him-so I've come to learn over time.
He only has one real true pleasure
And in my view, he'll do anything to have he way-go to any measure.
It is my torture that he oh so desires
He has come to enjoy my suffering-it almost like my destruction he admires.
He has me shackled-he has me chained.
He controls every part of me making me insane.
Every little fiber of my being…'tis he I've heard.
I am forced to obey his every command, his every word.
To my every sickness, he is my very cure.
To my every pain, he is my very savior.
He is my blessing…he is my curse
He is my demonic little angel…things could be worse.
So all the agony and sadness that he causes me
Am I sentenced to endure for all eternity?
I have an idea-to cowardly run away and hide
That pathetic thought has crossed my mind before-burning at my eyes.
But as I have learned, the act is literally impossible
He refuses to retreat from me-glaring at me, his eyes mean and prideful.
But although he is not very kind to me, or trusting
And of course, his presence was never really very comforting.
His memory keeps me company when I feel so alone.
He is my demonic little angel that followed me home.
And although I do not like him-and, he does not like me
I will admit he's a pretty sight to see.
He has an attractive little face
Belonging to an angel of an oriental race.
His skin is soft and pale.
His voice is sweet but cold, like a secret-I'll never tell.
His eyes are dark and dead
That seemed to be full of longing seething hatred.
But of course, I am responsible for his rage
I was never really all that kind to him in the first place.
His jet black hair
Brushed, long and silky, with obvious great care
Masks he eyes like a raven colored curtain
Framing he face…so his sadness cannot be seen-of this I am certain.
But it's he soft gentle lips that always seem to catch my eye
Always in he little, smirks full of hate and wry.
I know that deep down in my core
I have set aside a small part of my heart for him
To remain with me forever more
Someday I will learn to understand him and his story
And maybe then…I would no longer have but just a small piece of his-just a memory.
Then maybe-just maybe…I could say that he belongs to no one else but me…