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The Monster Inside Me

Poetry is the food of the soul. It's my greatest contribution to the world and an area I can always grow.

A Few Words in Advance of Reading

This poem was written on a dirty scrap of paper at a time when everything in life was dark and the walls were closing in. I recently discovered it while sifting through a box of old writings, while working on a manuscript.

Many people have written memoires about low periods in their lives and how those low periods inspired them when they rebounded. Others read those books and find inspiration to fight their own monsters, and some emerge victorious. I'm not interested in going back to those dark days, for any reason, but when I reread this piece, I had to share it. It is exactly in the same raw form that I wrote it more than 35 years ago. You will figure out why I call it the Monster Living Inside of Me. I'm just a regular guy who got caught up in something irregular. I fought a hellish battle, but emerged a better man on the other side.

the-monster-inside-me

The Monster Inside of Me

There is a monster living inside of me

We all have one

Some keep the beast tightly bound

Hidden deep in a pit

Where the creature can do no harm

Nor show its hideous features

Others, like me, feed the monster

We let its ugly face be shown

It tears our soul to pieces day after day

Yet, we do little to try and control it

We show the beast daylight much too often

And it grows even stronger

Soon it becomes the master and we become the slave

Mind is no longer mind

Body no longer body

The monster goes on a feeding frenzy

Days become hours

Weeks become minutes

The destruction moves a breakneck speed

Until the monster destroys itself

And takes the host along for the ride

It kills as it has always killed

And moves on to start the tragedy again

Unless

Someone steps in to stop it

Unless

The powerless become powerful once again

But few remain

And most succumb and finally surrender to the monster

Yes, this monster has a name

An evil name

So powerful it kills with a whisper

It's called cocaine

© 2021 Ralph Schwartz

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