you dont get away with anything
my dear
you plan
and wish
and manipulate
your monsters
into manageable darlings
you neatly putty them into corners
of a box
you have purchased
at a pretentious gift store

you speak sweet words to them
they whisper their concerns to you
you nod knowlingly
ask questions
act interested
hope that they will soon fall asleep
and secretly pretend that they do not belong to you

next morning
or next week
or next lifetime
they come squealing
out of their reverie
clawing for attention

sometimes they even try to **** you

you don't get away with anything
my dear