The battle rages on
Me against Me
My darkness against my demons
My shade against my shadow
My soul is the battlefield
smoke curls from long cold ashes
of fond memories long dead
and feelings that I wish were long forgotten
flames dance among the crumbling ruins of my sanity
as I mercilessly hurl gasoline into the conflagration
There is no mercy, no remorse,
no love, no pity
between Me and Myself
No rules.
I mutilate Me
Self esteem, confidence, self respect
are all targets of my relentless assault on myself
I hack at Me with the blades of doubt and cynicism
draw blood from ten thousand tiny wounds
One will win, someday,
I or Me.
Do I care who?
Who are you asking?
And the prize?
Nothing, really.
it's just a husk
a paper thin, rotting shell with no hope inside
a whitewash of civility and humanity
over a tortured, battered, bleeding, pathetic entity
that does nothing but cower, mewl, and beg for death.

Winner walks!

the loser gets to keep it