running from me

Round and round I go in circles
Trying to be free
In a maze within my mind
In the Labyrinth of me.
Within the depths of this Enigma
Lies a Minotaur in wait
Sensing blood in innocence
Gullibility the bait.
So ironic is the thought I know
I cannot fight the Beast
The horned, muzzled cannibal,
the very product of my imagination,
the very least.