Monsters

Monsters
Every living person has them.
They cling to shoulders, whisper in ears
Exert all their energy into their target, like a parasite latching onto its host
Confidence is power
Unfortunately, that's theirs as well
The uncertainty of self is the first symptom
Then arrives the self hatred, shadowed by harrowing hurt
The host remains oblivious, blaming him/herself for an elusive reason
Thinking that he/she does not meet any of the criteria
That he/she will never reach salvation
That the target on his/her back remains for an eternity and nothing anyone can
Do or say will change that fact
That abiding by the parasite proves to be the only way
And, most terrifyingly,
That to be liberated is to not be living

Some do not win this independent battle
Fighting for both sides, the host begs like a hopeless mendicant

Searching for solution, something
Tired of constantly surviving in a black and white world
Searching for the hint of a purple or blue to save his/her soul
Until he/she now only visualizes black
Blinded. To him/herself. To peers. To everyone.
The road through must be followed
There are potholes, broken streetlights, and monsters
Because at the end of this seemingly endless stroll
A burst of rainbows await,
blues dance in the sky,
greens relax in the breeze,
And as soon as that moment arrives the darkness cowers
For it has lost.