Daemon on my breath,
let this heart of mine go.
Let this beat of mine beat
Without squeezing it so.

This mind that you torment,
With visions to last,
My past is alas now a bitter filled glass.
Yet, through this cup,
I watch as you grow,
Why I don't tip you over,
I really don't know.

I watch as you slither,
Slither with snipe
Calling me unless,
A thing oh so tripe.
You don't fool me daemon!
Or maybe you do,
It's all quite too often
Me who's the fool.
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