The QUIET Demons of Borderlines

In the shadows of a silent storm,

Where emotions rage, yet remain unseen,

Resides a soul with a quiet form,

Whose demons dance, but are kept serene.

A poet's ink spills, a silent plea,

To give voice to the chaos, the pain within,

Words whispered softly, a soliloquy,

Unleashing the storm, where battles begin.

In verses woven with delicate grace,

The quiet BPD demons find release,

Metaphors dance, emotions embrace,

A tapestry of longing and inner peace.

Each line a whisper, a heartfelt cry,

Painting portraits of the turbulent mind,

Through poetry's lens, the demons fly,

Their voices heard, their stories entwined.

The poet's pen becomes a refuge,

A sanctuary for the storm to subside,

In the cadence of words, a sacred deluge,

A healing balm for the wounded inside.

So, let the verses flow, the demons sing,

For poetry holds the power to mend,

In expressive art, a cathartic spring,

Quiet BPD finds solace, my friend.

Remember, dear poet, you're not alone,

In your poetic expression, demons slain,

Your words, a symphony, a healing tone,

Quiet BPD whispers find strength to rest