My Mind Is a Cage

I have never had a monster under my bed, 

But I do have one inside my head. 

He does not have long claws, 

He does not have jagged teeth, 

He does not look like a ferocious beast. 

He looks impeccable, 

In his fresh-pressed suit 

Accompanied by his knowing smirk. 

He carries around a briefcase. 

It is filled with me. 

A different me from the one you can see. 

Inside, it is divided into folders. 

The tads read, 

Insecurities 

Failures 

Secrets 

Hate 

Each one has color-coded subsections 

That he spends his day leisurely reading. 

He reads them out loud. 

He provides commentary. 

His weapon is his venom-slicked tongue. 

Every word about how 

Pathetic, 

Weak, 

Idiotic, 

I am 

Makes my mind deteriorate, 

Until I am little more than what he described. 

There is no way to make him 

Stop, 

Leave, 

Die. 

He only quiets when someone speaks from outside. 

But that’s okay. 

I don’t want him gone. 

I could never succeed 

Without him there 

To 

Help me.