I wake before dawn in twisted sweltered sheets,
Fearing this isn’t yesterday in repeat.
I can feel the breath of the sleeping Beast over me,
It will wake ravished with hunger, expecting its daily feast
Of soulless words, selfish thoughts and everything that is the worst of me.
You see, years ago, I allowed the Beast privileges, I can no longer retrieve.
It wears the key to my soul on a tether around its neck.
We use to lay together and laugh about the scars we inflicted on others,
Found enjoyment, plucking at their scabs.
I loathe who I’ve become and the company I keep.
It seems like an eternity since I dare gaze in to the looking glass.
Do I have grit to remove the cloth that conceals a wicket pass?
Will I have the strength to confront and mend all the broken glass?
Today I’ll find keys that lay in plain sight, for locked gift boxes,
Filled with words of now worthless wisdom, that’s been buried under years of arrogance.
Forced to stumble over debris of dignity and consequence,
In darkness I will search for my lost innocence.
Expelling my Beast has no probability; It will always remain dormant in the depths of my soul .
I will have to be steadfast in my convictions careful not to air the slightest imperfections.
I lay motionless watchful not to wake it, all the while plotting our transformation