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A demon of black slammed the door & sat by the window. There was no need to lock the door, but it acknowledges cowardice. Memories of running up the stairs & pulling up the bedsheets are shown to just get its point across. Cracking & ghost laughters. There was never any daring looking under the bed. A demon of black still pays visits just to viciously grin. It sits by the window & at times looks at the moon as if it tried to make its gloam musky.
A demon of red disguised itself as love for life. The lights in the sky, both moon & stars, were acridly ignored for the love-infused made minutiae as tiny as the rest. One thought of oneself & none else. The walks presented themselves as gifts of god. Beliefs of acquiescence of oneself & redemption blurred what is & what might be. A demon of red disguised as passion. But it finally ended up in lust, & not indeed for life.
A demon of bleu which took the seas away. Ten years were said to have to pass by before the sand could be sensed by the skin. Whales never were. Let alone any thought of weird fishes. Yet monsters commanded the currents & hid the sun. A demon of bleu fused water with malaise.
A demon of white who blinded me day & night...