My ego is a pompous beast. He crams in the earplugs, laces the tongue with arrogance and erects the body with self-importance.
My ego! The foe of learning. The enemy of insight. The rival to compromise. When the beast comes out to play, Renae is a bitch. I’m deaf, yet not mute. I’m blind, yet have firm vision. I’m steadfast, yet fragile.
“You are wrong” awakens the beast, stuffs in the earplugs and puppeteers the tongue.
“Renae, Just listen” slaps the beast, locks the jaw and narrows the eyes.
Most days, I sit on a throne of empathy, compassion, peace and tolerance.
Yet, the days when confidence dwindles and insecurity tinkers with thoughts, my veneer reeks of self-importance with a dash superiority. Inside, I am a toddler cowering to the fisted ferocity of a father. It’s funny how my beastly ego rears its head when I’m feeling small.
I understand my beast; I am yet to find a leash for it…
Beasty eats when mind is weak. When thoughts a fraught with worry
Beasty reaps my sight and speech, yet won’t concede “I’m sorry”
“Rattatap” raps the door, Beasty’s now aboard
“You are wrong” his favorite song. Beasty strikes a chord
Little Beast is at the feast, self pity his first bite
He gorges on a frail mind that’s craving to feel right
An ego being, site unseeing, ears deaf to my pleas
There is no soothing, Beasty brooding. I’m cuffed and on my knees
Yet, faced with facts, beast is slapped. Schooling ends his reign
Ego gone, as Beast was wrong. Fault’s doused upon my name