a place in their head, 

where all the demons live, 

screaming and shouting as they lay in bed,  

eyes closed and deep breaths,  

futile efforts to quell the red.  

when their mind turned to red they did not know,  

far before they thought to remember,  

red — tainting the floor, the walls, and window,  

rage, pain, and anguish burning like an ember;  

the feelings that nipped joy at the bud,  

reminiscent of times they saw flowing blood.  

too far gone to save themselves now,  

to a lonely life, they had surrendered.  

and when the light came they asked how?  

to treasure it they made a vow,  

a sea of red and a single bright light,  

a light they had been bereft to sight,  

a shining beacon right outside the window,  

a light that suddenly let itself show.  

and then there was a place in their head,  

where all the demons lived, 

suppressed in good stead,  

where they rampaged behind a locked door,  

in front of which was a place filled with more joy than they had dare ask for.  

(and at the dead of night when they had long gone to rest, redolence of yore, 

a mother’s smiling demeanour came to test, 

for to her child, it mattered not her hoar, 

she was their light and bright she would remain; 

so when she looked under the bed, 

the demons shivered and knew they had better lightly tread.)