Mounster

It bubbles deep beneath, seething, boiling, roiling to a dense and roaring cacophony.

A wall of sound, blocking out all reason, eradicating logic, feelings become like a tar;

Thick and unforgiving, and I am mired in that substance struggling to be free yet knowing that it is not within me nor in my power to be. The anger I feel is not my own but that of previous generations, a chain around my neck, weighing down my head, making me subservient to my iridescent masters with skin of snow and teeth like ivory. I speak their language and think their thoughts and the result is mere tolerance when what I require, crave, need is acceptance. An understanding that is deeper than what I have of myself, I desire from others; What foolishness! I am angry at myself for being so weak, for letting it happen, for letting them take a bold and righteous figure with the heart of a lion; King of the jungle, just and true with strength and wisdom, to be overcome with empty and baseless fear. Fear of thoughts both my own and especially those of my esteemed masters. What will they think of me? Will they judge me to be something I can not, will not be? Oh, what travesty! Oh, what shame! They have wrongly judged my name and my world is over...

Wait, I am still here. The judgment has fallen and I still exist; The monster is dwarfed by the faint yet vibrant truth that I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

I am what I am, no matter what thinking may precede, and the struggle to be understood falls far from need.

I can feel it even now, bellowing within me, yearning to be freed; Yet now I agree; Come out for awhile, let's talk, get to know one another, for better or for worse.