The demons of my inner world
Are asking me with impatience
If I am ready yet to quit,
Admitting my incompetence.
They know my answer, yet they ask
With power of repeated doubts.
I tell them under groaning weight:
“Perhaps tomorrow? Thereabouts?”
“But not today?” “No, not today.”
“You sure you want to take no rest?”
“Oh I will take my rest for sure.
To quit, I have no interest.”
“You know it will be harder, right?”
“Perhaps it will be. Perhaps, not.”
“You have no say in what will be.”
“I can’t lose what I haven’t got.”
“You cannot win this game of life.”
“Is there a winning, anyway?”
“Your friends are winning, don’t you see?”
“I wonder what their demons say.”