Demons

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Demons hide behind rust,
they clothe themselves in a shameful past,
whisper secrets, a trembling echo,
in the dark shadow of a plunging world.

They walk among shadows, they creep in silence,
in a forgotten corner where time wears away,
withered memories that the mind even chaste
tries to forget, with its fragile lure.

They sing a requiem, a painful lament,
while the wind carries their distant cries,
stories of falls, of dreams in the hands
of infamous, cruel and violent fate.

They sleep in the embers of the extinguished fire,
whispers of horror in the embers of life,
bound in its chains, wounded hope
stirs up the courage of a longed-for struggle.