My Malevolent Friend (An Original Poem)
Winston Churchill referred to it as 'the black dog'.
I call him My Malevolent Friend. He is a part of me, would I be me without him? I'm not so sure.
Has my friend taught me anything? Perhaps greater empathy. Pain is pain, how it feels for me is how it feels for another, it becomes a rather simple equation.
I have also learnt that no one can hurt me quite like I can hurt myself through him, I guess that reduces my fear of others, leaving only the fear of myself.
The fear that when he knocks I start to dissipate, I am me but a little less, until I am but a passenger in my own thoughts. He is at the wheel, laughing maniacally and glaring at me with those psychotic dead eyes. He does it for the kicks.
In it all, that faint, fragile, wispy puff that snuck out of Pandora's box all those millennia ago tickles the back of my mind. We have been here before my friend, we have crossed sabres before and I live and breathe, so I won...and I will win again. I don't know it in that moment, but that small puff of hope lingers, a point of focus in the debilitating abyss.
I haven't seen my Malevolent Friend in all his splendour in some time, maybe he is sleeping, maybe he went away. We shall see.
I hope you enjoy my short poem and first, of hopefully many posts on Steemit.
My malevolent friend
My malevolent friend.
Has been with me for as long as I can remember.
As I grow older, he grows bolder,
His weight heavier on my shoulder.
As horrible as it is, it’s become my norm, so I wait patiently,
For the storm.
He starts to whisper in my ear,
Hissing as his words take form.
Clawing at my attention, pulling me in his direction,
Disturbing my perception, teaching me to HATE my reflection.
My malevolent friend.
Ties me to the chair, the bed and gives his lecture.
All I can do is listen; life loses all warmth, colour and texture.
No matter how valiant my resistance, I can’t shirk his insistence.
His words are my own, my mind his throne.
He coaxes my fear,
Like a spear, Lodged in my brain.
I’m going insane,
With the pain,
My thoughts aflame,
Drowning, drowning in these words of guilt and shame.
by The Count of Delphi
"His words are my own, my mind his throne." Yes, that's about right. You accomplished a difficult task - writing about such an affliction in rhyme. Was this beneficial for you? It seems like it would be strangely therapeutic.
Thanks for having a read! I do pick some odd topics to write about in rhyme, I quite like the challenge of trying to achieve it. It must have been at the time I wrote it, I can't fully remember my reasons for writing it but it was tucked away in an old book and I thought I would share. Appreciate the comment.