Powerless

They say that idle hands are the devil’s workshop
but I’ve encountered far more demons in my head
than in my hands
The pitfalls of my imagination lie in the beasts
of my own creation
Beasts that bide their time
and cast shadows far and wide
Beasts that whisper sweet nothings
and highlight my shortcomings
They are the
living
breathing
mental proof
of self sabotage
How do I forgive what’s within?

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