The monster

There's a monster in my innerds, but he's a complicated little soul
He tells me different tails each and every day, but I threw him on the fire bed, my fuel, he is my coal
The monster feeds my laughter,  he taunts me with anger and snides at my regrets
He is the reason of my essence, my jealousy, my inspiration, my empty bottles of beers, the why of my forgets.

There's a monster that hides in both the shallow waters and exists in the deepest darkest parts of my mind
A sword wielding hero who can cry and laugh and stress and relax on the battlefield of love and hatred like a brain manuscript to the retina of the blind.
There's a monster that tells me every day , amongst the poor of the streets, amongst the wealthy of the promenade, a soft giving tissue , a lead and diamond ring, crushed like darkness oh  so hard
And yet he make me giggle, he tickles my over sensitive tummy, my monster plays internal anguished poker hands, yet he holds every ace and king and queen he holds every card.

There's a monster inside of me, but he also gives me flowers, he jettisoned me from a dark dank place
He's a war hero that's fought against depression and the aftermath of overthinking, with goodness and grace
I suppose I should name him, give him a personality and a face, a part of my family tree
And yet there seems little point, for the monsters name is a fact, the monsters name is me.