I have two sides
Neither is black and neither is white.
They're locked together, bound tight.

One is young
With dreams and hope.
He doesn't bite
Doesn't break
Doesn't ever choke.
He's a fast talker
He can rhyme, he's got rhythm
With a grin on his face,
You can tell he has ambition.
He wants to go far gonna go far even if he has to go it alone.
Little naive
But learning fast,
Quick witted,
Sharp,
Swift,
Precise.
Probably crazy on some
Inner level.
He's a reasonable fellow
But he thinks he's always right.
And even though he is sweet he is not above
A fight.
He'll look nice
Doing it
But his madness is clear to be seen
Hidden there
Under the gleam.
He'll only use words,
He'll laugh as he blows you
Out of the water.
Throw you
Away
To the gutter.
He suffers from bouts of rage-
Insatiable hunger,
Blood lust,
This he tries to contain.
He is kind to animals,
Likes small birds and cats.
Is polite to his elders
Respectful to his boss.
But he's a bastard and he knows it
Though he tries not to show it.

The other is older
Colder and harder
He is vicious and keen
He makes sure he's not seen
By the masses
For they often spur him
To rage.
He's a monster
Crazy
But focused,
Driven
Destructive
Psychotic
A dark spot
In the sky.
Taloned
Toothed
Slick
Clean.
Killing machine.
He is almost the master, he holds the reins.
He takes the young man, twists his arm
Forces him to take his talents
And use them
Abuse them
Make harm.
He's taught his partner well
How people are but insects
Easily smashed
Useless specks of life.
Frequently moody
Low and clouded over
A brooding beast
Barely human.
He likes his women cooked
Sweet and sour, fried or grilled.
(I myself am gay.)


I have danced with this dark side
Done the tango, done the waltz.
And yes, I use his power
As my power.
I understand him
And we try to work together.

But we're unbalanced
Too much dark, too little light.
Even our best intentions
Rarely turn out right.

We are joined at the hip,
We share a heart.
It has a soft spot
It's honest and noble
Often looked over
When decision time comes.
For this
Our attempts
At good deeds
Honorable deeds
At helping
Often backfire
As our fickle nature
Takes us ten steps forward and thirty back.
We do not know
What we are doing.
It runs us thin.

"My gods- is that man arguing with himself?"
"I think so, my lady."
"Oh my, he struck himself!"
"He belongs in a straight jacket!"
"We had better call someone."
"Yes, lets."

As we are dragged away
Yet again
Confused and angry
As to why we never win,
All that I can do is apologize
But I cannot change what I am.