Those things

And now, when I've got time to think of my way,
I'm thinking of those things that I drink away.
They're too real, too loud, and I trample them down,
Because otherwise they would bravely frown

At my happiness, as I call it, my joy.
They'd make me so lost, unprotected and coy.
The worst part is they are not somewhere beyond,
They're here, inside me, waiting for my respond.

And pushing me, pushing me, right from within.
So actively pushing me, they're in my skin.
They're my sins and bad thoughts, bad deeds and desires
Of forbidden fruits my head easily designs.

They're demons inside me that are yet not free,
I feel like I have something dark here in me.
They're causing my trembling, confusion and awe.
They whisper me phrases and I'm just like, "Oh,

That's something exactly I wanted to hear!
Wait, no! That's not true, go away, disappear!
No, stay. You should know, I'm in love with your sass!
Now die! Hope this moment was our very last!"