Killing Inside A Cage

I suppose you could say it's about self-loathing. Depends upon how you wish to take it.

It stares back,
Angry at me.
I tried to kill it again.
That feral cringing thing in my mind.
I have no cage for it.

 

Why won’t it just die?
Or disappear?
It ruins everything,
Hurts everyone.
I’m ashamed of it.

 

I don’t know how else to stop it.
I don’t know how to keep it from hurting anyone else
Unless I make myself its prison.
I withdraw.
It’s easiest to be a prison when I’m alone
And have no one to distract me.

 

And then I try to kill it again.
And again.
And again.
But all I get is the destruction of it’s cage,
Bars turned bloody and dripping,
Metallic upon metallic.
Floor and ceiling scored with claw marks,
Bits of finger and fingernail and torn flesh buried in the grooves.

 

But I’m not the only one walking around with it.
I’m not the only one to create a cage of myself.
Tell me,
Which of you has angry eyes staring back at you
When you close your eyes?

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Jack The Rabbit]

I'm not a fan of poems, but I really do like this. I can feel the anger and the frustration from not being able to kill the 'thing' that's in your mind, that little bit of personality that you hate.

I especially like the 'metallic on metallic' line since it plays off the literal of the cage and the sensory taste of the blood. Yes, I like this poem a lot. Kudos.