**** you out
Your broken beliefs
Your desire to extinguish the very thing that makes me me...

**** you out
Your empty words
Your fraying suit
Your fear...

**** you out
Your insistence to destroy anything that makes us happy and human

**** you out
Your dangerous perception that in order to protect a child you must never become one again...

Which leads to suppression, self-harm, oppression, augmentation and homogenisation...

And when the whole world has shat you out
Showed you that they won’t be controlled anymore by your projection...
Yes, when you’ve truly ****** your freedom -

Who will you turn to?
When even your inner child has closed the door on the monster you’ve become...

****; you’re so out.

I have signed a form
That I can’t turn back from.
I have raised a hand

Of which

cannot be undone.

I have held a blood-stained blade
That’s ruined another,
Scars, wounds, words and all,
Isn’t red a horrible colour?

Isn’t red a horrible colour?

I have made a deal with the devil
And it's given me a choice:

Be the monster
I always have been
Or
Fix myself
With a roll of dice,

Stain my hair
Bronze, silver and gold
Or
Dig through the dirt
At my feet,

Bite my tongue and
Hold my throat
Or
Clasp my hands together,
On my knees.

Isn’t red a beautiful colour?

Anxiety.
It eats you from the inside out.
It claws and tears its way through your ribs,
Like a staving hyena desperate for food.
It is chained inside with no way out.
Chains that drag you deep into the water.
Deep into a dark void.
A void that is suffocating,
Forming a lump in your throat
Like hands wrapped around your neck.
A lump that strangles you,
And holds you down.
Causing the inability to know up from down.
It’s the monster lurking in the abyss
Grabbing you to make you one of your own.

Darkness.
Darkness is your monster
But it is also your friend.
It can give you clarity
Even as it blankets your vision.
It can give you comfort
Even as you feel suffocated.
In life, darkness is a symbol of fear, anguish and misery.
But remember,
Before you entered this world you were in darkness.
You were in a comforting void where you developed and grew.
In dark times, this is where most growth lies,
And when light finally returns,
You were born new.

I believe there is a monster inside all of us
Insidious in nature, but all so fragile
Begging to be tamed

Tamed and loved.
Love is the only guarentee to peace
But every thing in this life meets its end and must be mourned before it can be fully appreciated

My monster lost its peace, now I'm restless.
Lashing out and acting out of character
Is this who I become after getting every thing I prayed for?

The fleeting moments of recalled joy in between the weight of loss make him hesitate.
But he has tasted the other side of his nature and yearns for it again

And he will seek it the only way he knows how, violence until peace can be found again.
I am just as foolish as him, this time hoping it sticks around.

"You're not a monster," she said from two and a half feet away, across the table. And as those four words exited her mouth, it was like I could see them coming for my absorption like a dagger I had to receive. They arched up in the shape of a rainbow, over her bowl of pad Thai, over 3 remaining coconut shrimp, past both Thai iced teas, dipping down over my panang and fell down inside of my ears.

I heard them.

Quicker than sound, my eyes dropped down, staring at my bowl instead of letting anyone see that I was about to cry.  Where does all of that water come from so quickly anyways? It's like my body just decides to pull any water from any cell within. My own body takes from its own inside life to put on the outside so other life can see how I'm hurting inside. Those tears were stolen by a force I can't control to put my thoughts on display. It's twisted when you think about it that way.

Even if I were a monster, I would still be worthy of love and protection. Just recently I was at the optometrist and described my ears like the creature from goonies, and to adjust my glasses accordingly, please. She quickly reminded me that my uneven ears were normal and beautiful. Not just with words, with her hands touching my ears. She could probably smell the anxiety I exude, and chose to change the mood.

That was her choice.

Everyone has that choice. I know I'm a broken human, I'm as broken as the sunflowers in the picture. They don't look broken but two weeks after I took that photograph, they were all dug up and thrown away by the people that own that land. I just have to hope that some of their seeds fell during that removal so that they have an unexpectedly marvelous rebirth. I hope.

I know I'm not a monster, I've lived a life of service to others. Even my enemies don't have much meat inside the beef they have for me, it's mostly just my personality... which is light enough to crumble into a powder and be blown away by the wind. I've given away everything that I am. I've given love to people who didn't ask for it, I've given my best love to strangers, my longest and strongest love to family.

I'm not a monster. I just have a configuration that is unpopular.

it's more powerful than me
it takes over anytime it wishes
makes me it's obedient slave
makes me ****, wound and destroy
turns me into the ugly
turns me into the dark
under its control
i lash out, i annihilate
i have no choice
i cannot resist
i can't control it
how do i stop it
i can't control it
but i use it's evil
i can use it against me
i can annihilate me

the beast within
a ticking time bomb
never know when what you do is wrong

run and hide
close the blinds
the monster is out from under the bed

“look what you did”
“it’s all your fault”
it really wasn’t but that’s fine

i said i was sorry
“sorry doesn’t fix it”
“your apology was arrogant”
here we go again

the beast is out of its cage
someone else forgot to feed it
but the target is always me

doesn’t matter what you say
what you do
or try to prove

the beast is hungry
the monster is angry
the beast is scary
the monster is crashing
the beast is dad
the monster is him
it’s better when both are silent and hidden within

Am I a poor sister,
for constantly pushing them away,
in for losing my temper too easily?

they'll ask me to check the closet,
or underneath their beds,
"there's a monster".

but it makes me wonder,
maybe the true monster is me.