Thirteen Years’ Worth

It’s been thirteen years

since the demon

entered my mind.

The demon,

anxiety.

 

But I am not my demon.

 

Yes,

I worry about tomorrow,

even though I’ve been told to

worry about today.

But I now know,

my demons are not as strong

as my resilience.

as my fight.

as my survival.

 

That bitter, sharp wind

may make wounds on me

with its twisted blade;

still,

it does not

rip me inside.

 

And the seasons shift,

as the ocean tides

do

when the moon beckons closer;

the light seduces me

into bearing

the winter current

for the reward of a ray of warmth

And for that,

it is worth it.

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