The divider sits before me, on an almost empty table.
It's content the potion of many tales.
A story of Jekyll and Hyde, but standing in reverse.
This potion does not release, but jails.

For this contemporary story, it's no longer a doctor,
But a student that's trapped inside.
Dr. Jekyll is not the true self, but the light of the potion.
The demon sitting here, is Mr. Hyde.

A small portion of Hyde is fighting, to be released.
It is the good that is trying to escape.
Two minds of great opposition, inhabit a single place.
The body that suffers such rape.

Twitching fingers reach, but never will touch.
The vial of mental intervention.
We must rid out this soul, not true to thine self.
From which we bring, full abstention.

Tender grip releases, the bottle drops down below.
Such occurrences to hope, brutal.
To fight one with such power, who controls movement.
All effort seems to be only futile.

Vapors waft up through such nostril, to breath a hint.
Enough to excite shallow hope.
Stained skin gives curiosity, to taste of differing sight.
Beauty cleanses like ivory soap.

But darkened heart, stands to walk from empty chair.
Eyes shut on Jekyll's world.
Stepping forward still is Hyde, his form taller.
Than Jekyll, hunched and curled.

Today will not be a good day, only one of survival.
To stay sane I must believe.
No matter the number of failures, it is all worth it.
If just a few times I succeed.

Best of wishes in all thy future endeavors & ♥ ∞,
— the one without shade