The Cerberus, the threeheaded dog with low hanging canines with razor sharp teeth; Depression, Guilt, and Regret. Depression's head hangs the lowest with eyes sunken back so far, the twinkle of what used to be a puppy dog's eyes gone. Guilt, looking away from your gaze, avoiding your eyes as his ears stay erect. Regret, with his straighton look of internal agony that burns like flames behind his eyes. The heads battle for sleep at night, gnawing on your mind; the bones of your past, like hungry dogs they bark when they want to feed. Clawing at your conscious and chewing on your emotions like a toy. You fight them everyday, trying to tame the beast but your leash of confidence and collar of positivity fails. Snaps. Breaks. You try to ask others to help walk the demons but they don't see why you can't do it yourself. After so many sleepless, bleeding nights you finally become sick of the dog owner you've become and latched the muzzle of happiness on their loud mouths to quiet them. You leave them at home so they can't bother you in your outside life. You begin to feel detached from all three of them, not totally letting go, but taking care of them when you need to. When you have to. They begin to grow old and the heads sink lower and you can't hear their whimpering anymore one day. You don't cry over the loss. You smile.
