ABH Images

Wrestling with my inner demons
Do I win? Or am I pinned?
Will they haunt
Or taunt
Do they know how much they hurt
Toy with a bitter edge
Not a care have they
They have their way

People say that it’s water under the bridge
As if it runs placid, peacefully quiet
But what if it’s turmoil, roiling and loud
Cascading through crevices, tumbling over rocks
Scouring the stream bed and
It deepens
When the bridge falls into its chasm
Do I leap or do I fall?