You can't. You can't kill them.
They eat away at your soul, your only being. They hate you... But you hate them more.
My demons may say different things to me than yours to you, but they are the same.
Trust me... They are the same.
My demons tell me I am worthless. Fat. A scum. Useless. A nothing. A zero.
Stupid. Alone... They tell me everything I can't bear to hear.
I know... I know they are correct.
I am worthless, a useless daughter. The only thing I know how to do well is play the violin with my veins as the strings and my trusty razor as the bow.
I am a fat pig. I have rolls all over my back, a huge gut, a double chin, even though everyone says that I should eat more. I trust my mirror more than them.
I am alone. Those friends of mine are bad, that's what mommy says. They push me to say bad things to her when she drinks and hits me half to death. That's what she thinks... I guess she is correct.
I am useless. There is nothing I can do right. I only know to cry, purge and play my beautiful violin.
Red. The color of everyone's blood, but not mine. Mine is black, filthy.
...See? Those are my demons talking, not me...
To kill my demons I must make a worthy sacrifice.
I need to jump off a cliff.
Because... I realized... My demons...
...They are me.