A lone warrior.

There once was a creature unknown to the Odessa of these humans. That creature, it lived in all those humans, silent yet consistent.

It’s name was, self demon.

Peeking through the mere eyes of humans, is how it fed its hunger. Everyone knew him, but everyone was so afraid of him to not acknowledge it or ever talk about him.

The rummaging of its name and everywhere, where it had no possession, trembled with fear.

It had a kingdom of its own, named conscious and subconscious.

These kingdom, beautiful places, were filled with memories and like all memories, some were happy and some were sad.

This self demon, it was a monster, looking for weakness to control. To weaken the warriors vessel it possessed.

It did not posses all humans, some were away from its grasps. Happy or not, no one knew because they were living in a deception of themselves.

Black was its color. It’s favorite color.

For in Black it could not see what a monster it had become and so on those kingdoms there was always darkness.

It was in the inner story, on the outer side, that warrior had to interact with other fellow humans and when he had tried to explain to them the monster that has been nurturing in the gut, they would say him to be a manipulator with the purpose to harm them of their good deeds.

He on the outside was named a sinister and the self demon would laugh with his teeth at that prospect.

Rejected from the outside world, he retreated to the kingdom of his, to seek some reconciliation.

Little did he know, self demon’s intentions.

Making him lose sight of his path in the darkness that he had cast, he a simple human walked on and on whilst the damsel demon, sucked away his feelings, he had for the people he loved.

The self demon, suppressed those feelings in his kingdom never to be found. But it did not stop at that. The demon, then poured rain of the loath and hatred.

Touching the barren interior of the fragile human, the rain invested him with its delicacies.

The warrior, weathered the storm, in ignorance of what was to come, isolation.

Self demon, played his next trick, isolating him from the peaceful hopes that his kin out there look for him.

The warrior stood at it too, thinking he was surviving it when in true, he was being broken to many and many pieces unknowingly.

Next, the warrior though to engage himself in decorating the kingdom that he now lived in, in doing so, he was handling over all his energy to the demon, making him all the more powerful.

In the mental state, such as this, his physical was not so strong either. What he faced in there, showed scars on the vulnerable body.

The people noticed it not, though.
One morning, but a night for the darkness, the warrior was walking without seeing his path. When, suddenly he stumbled on the demons den.

He entered. Looked around. He had been curious before, of who the demon was behind all its exterior.

He was shocked.

Pictures everywhere, personality traits being a positive match. Family and friends, positive.

The demon was none other than the lost true self.

-Naba Mehdi

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