A Monster

Balanced on a bridge of gold
You'll find a monster green.
Balled up, filling the air out with cold,
While bursting at the seams.
And to pass, he must be told
To kill her hopes and dreams.
His pleas are irrelevant,
She will stomp like an elephant,
Causing chaos, flashing fire 'bout the room.
And in his slumbers, hopefully,
She shoots himself, dopes fully
On the memory that quickly meets its doom.
Sparkling magic and f*ck*ng logic,
Fighting urge misogynistic,
He glides upon his broom.
Mirrors are liars.
Funeral pyres
Of the past float on blazing lakes of fire.
They're all wrong.
It's my song.
And the lyrics can be what I f*ck*ng please.
Who is me?
Are they we?
What version do I wish to be?
Should I have an "s" in she?
I don't know anymore.
They're too cold outside.