The Beast

Poison running through her veins,
Like fire.
The beast,
It is burning,
It is misery,
It is pain,
It is crushing,
It is cruelty,
It is disdain,
It is depression.

It creeps upon her like a panther to its prey,
Stalking, lingering, hiding,
Waiting for the moment,
Waiting for the moment when she stops.

She is free, she is mysterious, she is strong; she is precarious, she is young, she is old; she is violent, she is tame, she is spontaneous, she is shy, and she is afraid.

She stops,
Beaten for a moment,
And the ravenous beast attacks,
Spitting fear,
Feeding sorrow,
Blowing on the bellows of her Hell.

Always running, never ceasing,
It draws,
It saps,
It drains.
It hides,
It waits,
It wanes,
But never goes away.

Laughter dies from her face,
A smile perishes from her lips,
And in an instant
She is changed.

Raging rivers of thought
Come crashing through her defenses,
Tearing her emotions,
Beating her senses,
Destroying her slowly.

She is naked, she is suffocating, she is weak; she is dangerous, she is newborn, and she is dead; she is wild, she is diminished, she is impulsive, she is guarded, and she is afraid.

Curled in her bed,
She cries.
Unspoken tears,
Hot and endless,
Rain on her pillow.
And no one hears her one-word prayer.

Breathing deeply, she opens her eyes,
And begs the beast to leave.
“Go!” she commands,
her eyes ablaze with passion.

She is broken, she is fierce, she is dazzling; she is dreadful, she is crazed, she is sane; she is victorious, and she is triumphant.

“Go!” she says again,
The fervor in her words her only defense.
She vomits her soul into the night,
Gasping for clean air,
Her lungs wrench as she inhales,
Pulling back her core,
New, clean, pure.
“Go!” she whispers,

And for a moment,
It seems…
                                                                                                                                                    the beast has gone.