Fighting demons


There used to be a place, a place where I felt always welcome, 
always safe, always at home no matter what, where I would hide from my demons when ever they came hunting me down;
when the world seen to crumble at my touch, it was always there, 
always warm, comfortable, inviting, familiar;
there was no judgment, no questioning, there was just great music, 
even better company and existential conversations until 4 o'clock in the morning, those where my favorites; 
this was the place where we could all let our walls come down, 
go thorough the motions and with the poison of choice try and wash away the black from our souls, it was to us the only remedy for this illness, together we would fight teeth and nail for our sanity, without having to say much of what was really ailing us, all at the tune of the best songs deemed appropriate at the moment;
it was an endless search for the perfect weapon that could defeat our demons, for a beacon of light that would subdue the darkness, the grief, the coldness of it all; a way to avoid ending up alone and curled up in a corner waiting to be devoured, 
it was a way to feel that even tho we couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel at least we where not alone thus making the journey less torturous, but this place no longer exists and I feel adrift without a refuge to call my own; 
now its just siting there, 4 walls with so much history that it weights; and even tho it's been a while since I have felt the need for this place, when I see it now, I can't help but wonder, was it that we finally manage to defeat our demons, or was it that we gave in and had no choice but to accept them and learn how to live with them?




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