The Devil’s Room

The Devil’s Room


There is nothing to say about now

I am in the dark again

My body shakes

I am afraid


I swore I would never

Visit the devil again

But I did

And now he won’t let me go


With his cold hands on my wrists

A strength of which

I am too weak to pull away

So I cry as he holds me in his presence


Far far away

For anyone alive to hear my cries

I am silenced by defeat

It is here, I will die


Comfort and warmth

Are a long, distant memory

Foreign to my current surroundings

Will I ever be home?


I belong to the world

But I’m tired of wandering

Years I have searched

I am ready to belong somewhere


Inside of the Devil’s room

Walls dripping with my fear

Echos of my past are screaming

Lyrics of which berate me deeply


My own sins brought me here

Weak along the way

My mission so completely unclear

Pride was stripped my his cold, dead grasp


The death of my spirit

Has yet to visit me

I fight to keep it away

I am surviving on my hopeful emotion


Trembling with angry energy

I break away from the Devils force

Pounding on the structure that entraps me

I stand to show I refuse to be taken


~J. Lefever~

Written on a day unknown


This is an older piece I wrote some years ago…

I found it in my journals… scribbled in pencil on the pages of my yesterday

I thought I’d share it to show the deep effects that addiction had on my spirit

Like being trapped, held down by a strength much stronger than me… With hope almost impossible to find… but… somewhere inside of me, the refusal to give up.



 ©Think. Speak. Tryst. Publication







5 responses to “The Devil’s Room

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