There was a monster starving within,
never satisfied with what I gave to him.
A shiny, new object would catch his eye,
I would try to attain it whatever the cost,
But every gain became a loss.
Tired, broken, crushed I am,
But the monster says, “dear, can’t you see I’m growing thin?”
So, I try again to supply,
but it doesn’t ever satisfy.
There is always something more,
He’s hungry as a fucking boar.
I look in the mirror and can no longer see,
which is the monster, and which is me.
“I will do this no more.” I strongly decree.
Heart and soul are faint but intact,
the monster didn’t know he’d met his match.
He dies a little every day,
I can feel pieces of him slip away.
His death comes from the words I say,
and every time I claim, “not today”.
The monster now feels out of place,
hoping to creep into some other space,
But greed, jealousy, anger, fear,
none of these are welcome here.
Compassion, hope, peace, and joy,
Things the monster tried to destroy
Are also the only weapons against him.
Slay him once he’ll come back again,
You must kill the monster every day.
So, you can look in the mirror and finally say,
“that was the monster, and this is me.
We are not the same, you see?”