A poem about the duality of personality |
My Midnight Friend At night I hear it whisper to me from inside the cage society helped build. I wonder will the iron bars of com- munity ably hold back this dark beast. At night I hear it taunting me, begging to be set free from the pathetic cage. It knows the iron bars of morality won't be enough to hold it forever. At night I want to let it out, with its power I have no shame. Those iron bars are not so strong as my own sick curiosity. At night I let him out and behold what I call beautiful. Though society would call him ugly would call it scary, psychotic and sick. At night sometimes I admire his beauty the black matted fur covered in familiar stench. His huge sharp teeth covered in silvery toxic saliva his panting sending out the sweet stink of bated breath. At night we sit together and talk about what we have in common. He is entertained by violence and I would be a liar to say any different. At night we sit together and wonder just exactly how it is that we differ. He has no fear, perfect dangerous poise something I only wish to boast. At night when the sun threatens to shine I put him into the cage he so fiercely hates. Afraid he will be seen and judged by all those who keep their cages locked. In the morning I am so glad that I can put him away. I am glad I have the power, I am glad he is my pet. At night I sit and wonder if that morning was only an illusion. perhaps I had it wrong before, is he my pet or am I his? |