A Conversation with his Demon

“Depression my old friend” said the mortal to his demon, a mirror to see its form “you bring me poison and thistles that you would claim to be a gift as my happiness I mourn”

“Would one prefer the pampered tray of sweet wine and chocolate to soothe what ills your troubled mind?” asked the reflected form in life’s murky pond “a diet to lull your senses and bring distraction from the hardships of the storm”

The man looked as an ungrateful child “But surely I would be more happy when given treats from the masters tray?” responded in ignorant tone “how does the sour venom help to calm my jealous wounds, the prickly morsels feed my appetites growl?”

The demon curled a smile, a grin to cut a diamond “Any man can sample life’s better assortment, take in and enjoy their fill” he wisely departed knowledge “rich in all the glory he will be”

The mortal was a thoughtful complexion of confusion as to his demon he gave every attention that could be spared

“You consume the thorns with no hint of pain or second thought” the demon did knowingly inform “so even in the depths of desperate, you will never be short of a meal as scraps are all that the privileged will spare”

The mortal nodded, falling to agreement as the otherworldly voice was indeed correct with every twisted word

“When poison is all around you, water scarce, you will drink freely” it continued to preach its verse “the less prepared will die thirsty, no immunity to the caustic flow of acidic rivers of emotional strain”

“But I still crave to enjoy the top servings of a better table, the flavours of life that I deserve” a voice to defy the immortal presence of the demon to its very curse

“And when you able, and know it is what you have earned” the beast did complete its lesson “it will taste better than any meal you could dream to devour, to each what he deserves”

The man reflected the demons smile, an edge of something worse in his words “And knows that the one who has fallen, to give me my chair at the table, will endure all that I now know all too well”

 

It is here that it becomes harder, to tell the demon from the man

A heart poisoned at its most tender, all but stone and ash

Will know love so much more splendid, if he finds it before death!

 

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