She feeds on Fear.

Feeds on past insults and old rotten words.
Feeds on what ifs?
and “what can I get away with?”

Oh, she’s a clever one.
She can be a dragon and a terror,
but more often than not,
she’ll make herself real small,
like a tiny kitten.

Nibble away at all that is Good
without me noticing.

[Just call them love bites.]

Meows:
“play with me,
play with me,
I need the attention
and you aren’t doing anything

Important

right now

If you love me,
play with me.

Make me purr.
Sure I scratch
but you don’t really
want me to leave.

Make me purr.
Sure I scratch
but no one will know the
difference.”

Get her purring
and I am no longer
myself.

She is satisfied,
temporarily.
[Always temporarily.
She’s always hungry].

And me?
Who knows what I am,
when she’s in control,
except convinced
that I love poisoned claws
digging into my soul.

I’m used to her,
I love her,
I swear.

[I’m used to her.]


The thing about
Monsters
is that they can
shape shift.

This is no Disney movie,
no horror story,
no evil step-mother
to contend with
and vanquish.

A simple battle
between Good and Evil.

Monsters are not
black and white.

It’s all a mess of colors,
you see.

-
Maybe the monsters within
are not even truly
Bad.

Only:
afraid,
hurt,
wounded
abandoned.

Trauma’­s
last defense
against all that
accumulated Hurt.

Maybe
the monster within
can be

tamed
disarmed,
declawed.

Turned back into
a kitten again.

Tough,
playful,
protective.

But not Destructive.

Not a Terror.

Not Deadly.

-
Don’t say for sure
that there are no monsters
lurking within you.

Mine are loud.
Yours might just be
dormant.

-
[Tell me about your monsters within.]