I have a monster

I have a monster, I’ve had it with me since birth. Not hiding under my bed or in the closet or basement. My monster was in plain site with electric blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. My monster was diseased in ugliness and remnants of childhoof unlove, covered in its Machete lashes and bullet holes of darkness and aftershocks of the pain.

My monster‘s love and kindness crusted over in a small shell well beneath all his scabs and puss and tattered scars. My monster believed he was an angel , an angel blind to his living withered with all the anger and hatred endured in his childhood heart. My monster didn’t see when he was created and stayed present in the withered angel pain with blooming monster mind and his power roaring and hating and destroying.

My monster was like the toxic oozing of a nuclear bomb never eradicated from its radiation, toxic to every touch, oblivious of its' poison, tasseled in sarcasm and pointed insult , no one ever good enough .

My monster was suppose to protect us and keep us safe , guide our souls and help us grow, flourish but all my monster did was chop down the stairway until I had to learn how to fly far far away. Until I could only save myself from his venom.

My monster buried the people I loved poisoned by his radiation unable to escape his fangs. Then my monster weeped at how they weren’t strong enough to out monster him.