Angel PiscolaFull Stack something or other...

Inner Child

poem

In bed I lie and writhe:
The beasts within grow wild,
they tear my soul and strive
to kill my inner child
who bravely shouts, defends
his honor and his skin!
The demon seeks to rend
his courage from within.

Yet he will not falter;
the demon shall not win.

I shelter him from danger
and seek to grow his heart,
and who, of you, could say
you would not do that from the start?