I, Against Myself Poem by Marie J. Christopher

The most passionate but most elusive, secretive agent
Its main task is to engulf, consume, enflame;
The welfare of soul, it takes aim
It rises to conquer, to control, to permeate
The whole being by starting with the center of a human heart
To entice, to enrage, to force
Its will to be second to none
In the eternal battle of human heart, of thoughts, not the logics, tyrannically must be won
To conquer, to suppress, to enslave,
To dig a deep pit to bury soul in her bottomless grave
To inflict soul with its fatal blows,
One by one, with forceful calculated moves
Manipulatively to inflict the most suffering pains
In stirring up utmost all heightened human emotions,
To paralyze all logics, all reasoning, everything enlightening or sane,
To darken the mind, to negate all rigor and livelihood,
To paint everything first moody blue, lifeless pale, then reddish flame, and finally gloomy black,
To contaminate soul's sound mind, to introduce all disorderly moods
To kill a soul with a slow but suffocating death
Or to jail soul in languish captivity, to take over all her living breath

This villain has an seemingly familiar name, Self.

Self disguises as the replica of soul;
Self takes root in all fibers of soul especially her secret heart chambers;
Self acts like soul's true friend and comrade;
Self disarms soul by leading her to the roads of the least resistance and non-combat;
Self sweet-talks about the interest and welfare of soul
By putting soul first in all considerations;
Self shows soul instant gratification instead of sacrifice or patience.
Self shows love and interest on soul; both merge into one, no room for others.
Slowly self suffocates soul to her slow death;
In soul's heart chambers, self becomes the sole victor.
If soul is still lingering with flickering life,
She will forever be subject to the most cruel, most miserable torments from self;

Soul now lives in hellish self-indulgent Dungeon.