On Monsters

There's a bit of
A monster
In every person
That part of us
Which wants so desperately
To climb the Mountain
And sit.
To look downward
At
Everything
At people
Who,
Like once ourselves,
Struggle
Up the slope
Which is of course
Made of
Indecision, anger, exasperation
So that
If one isn't careful
One mistake
Could send you sprialing
Down.
(Our monsters hope you fall)
Our demons want
Everyone but ourselves
To fail
Singular
In that what began
As self-betterment
Will end with a bitter war
Against what we
Want
(Never

What we need)

What do we want?
Is it peace?
(Would we recognize it
If we had it?)
Our monsters, our devils, our demons
They'd all have to
Overcome
The greatest obstacle
(Themselves)
How fitting
Is it,
That we are the ones
Who prevent ourselves--
Ourselves from achieving
Distant dreams
Of peace (...)
Instead of constructing ladders
To help others reach
Up to us
Reach the top
Of the Mountain
We let our monsters
Watch
As the fight on the slope
Explodes
And destroys
The earth beneath
(The foundation)
From the base up
Until
It's no longer on
Any map
And there's
Nothing
Left
Except ruins.
(Desolace)
I can realize my own demons,
And
As long as I'm
Aware
They can be kept
In check
So that in the spirit
(Or hope)
Of a Mountain that can even
Exist--
For that purpose
I can look
Up
And never downwards,
As my demons do
And I can look
Forward
To a future
With less battles
And war
I can look forward
To peace.