Only Me
Joseph Danoski
Lost in pages of the same old story,
Caught in a self-imposed purgatory;
On the day I defeated my demon,
In the desert.
Hand to hand on the sand;
And I was free, and I could see,
(The spell broken, now awoken)
That it was me--only me.
I was a prisoner of my own thoughts,
Tied up in knots.
Always being eaten alive
By something inside that laughed as I cried;
And coming to life as I slowly died.
It was the dark days and nights of my soul,
As black as coal;
On those lonely flights to nowhere.
I felt damned with dampened spirits and hair,
Between the heavens and the devil’s lair.
Over the back streets, under the weather,
In wet leather;
Bicycling in the wind and rain.
Like something unchained, or someone in pain;
Running with death, quickly going insane.
Heading out to that abandoned station,
My destination
Somewhere over the borderline,
As you pass nine-hundred and ninety-nine;
A pack of smokes and a bottle of wine.
Lost in the clouds of my own creation,
Caught in a whirlwind of inspiration;
On the night that I met my own monster,
In the mirror.
Face to face in embrace;
And he was me, and I was he,
(Lightning flashing, thunder crashing)
And I could see, that it was me--only me.
