A Poem for My Shrink, Who Says I Need to Integrate Perceived Opposites

Demons and Angels

There are demons with daggers who live in my brain. They gouge me and gash me and drive me insane. They say I’m a loser, a fraud and a dick. They follow me everywhere, making me sick.

“You’re a failure, a joke, an imposter!” they shout. I can’t shake or outrun them. They’re wearing me out!

There are angels with halos who live in my head. They console and defend me wherever I tread. They say I’m upstanding and honest and smart. I cling to their soft wings with all of my heart.

“You’re a talent, a prince.” Such nice words they invoke That I can’t help but think that they’re just blowing smoke.

So which do I listen to — dark words or light? Angels or demons — comfort or flight? How could such opposites live in my mind Putting me in this impossible bind?

There’s a temperate soul who resides deep within. He’s known me forever and hears through the din. He says I’m a survivor despite all the strain He keeps me in balance and helps me stay sane.

“You’re not normal, not average, but distinctive,” says he. That’s a thought I’ll consider, considerably.