Monsters In a Gilded Cage

A monster is,
What a monster does,
Tied down by what it is.
It follows its instinct,
Whatever it is,
Kills,
Maims,
Tortures,
By its own necessity,
To stay afloat,
Above the rising waters.

It shown off,
In a pretty room,
As it impresses,
Everyone,
Is wondering about,
In different ways,
What it is,
What it can be.

Eventually the monster,
It tries to believe,
The gilded cage is home,
But it can never fool itself,
It knows too much.
He can't give up,
Not possible,
Nowhere in his nature,
Too lay down and die,
No matter how hard he wishes,
It won't happen.

No matter how hard,
He wants to believe in the cage of gold,
It's not him,
He is a murderer,
A killer,
Heartless and without compassion,
Rage and deceit,
Are who he is,
No denial,
He knows too much.

He's scared,
Frightened,
By who he is,
What he can do,
What he might or will do.
It is his nature,
To look around corners and protect himself,
His property,
His concerns,
But it is also his nature,
To destroy everything.

You can't control a monster,
By showing him the world,
From a mirror.
You can't control the monster,
Who's acid corrodes till nothing is left.
You can't control a monster,
By locking him up.
The gilded cages all fall down,
And he rides the night,
Loose as silk,
A hammer,
And the wind.

"There are all kinds of people, but danger is many in a single form."

ISA