Beneath the surface, silent and deep,
Where shadows linger and secrets sleep,
The inner demon stirs, takes shape,
A phantom forged from fear’s dark cape.

It whispers softly, sharp and cold,
Recounting tales of the lies we’re told,
“You are not enough,” it hisses clear,
A voice of doubt, a well of fear.

In mirrored pools of past regret,
Criticism strikes, we can’t forget.
Each wound, a scar, each scar, a chain,
Binding the soul to its silent pain.

Yet here within this shadowed land,
A chance awaits, a guiding hand.
To face the darkness, embrace the ache,
To see the monster as the soul’s remake.

For fear is but a fragile guise,
A mirror reflecting the truths it belies.
And demons fade when the light is shown,
Their power falters when they’re known.

So enter boldly, with courage strong,
The place where fears and truths belong.
For in the dark, the light is found,
And freedom blooms on shadowed ground.