there's a demon renting rooms in her brain,

and he loves late-night chats,

he hates fairy tales and myths,

but relish logic, reason, and facts.

he laughs at what she wears

the very dimples indenting her cheeks

the wild untamed coils of her hair

the low whispers when she speaks.

one evening on the bus, he asked,

"do they have demons too?"

and she figures with common dread.

it must be why we're so quiet

when we scream inside our heads.

⚛︎⚛︎⚛︎

why don't you scream?