Thoughts in my head

These little minions,
Doing the dirty work of my darker self,
Plaguing my serene village,
They attack vulnerability,
Fear being their main course.
The monsters aren't under my bed
They are in my head,
Lurking under a veil of electric impulses,
The devil sits on my shoulder whilst
My guardian angel slumbers.
They are a menace, a dark menace.
The minions change perceptions,
their ability to attack the optic nerve
And bring darkness upon it.
Perception is a vulnerable village
with very little protecting it.
They worm their way under and over
High walls and attack all the emotions hiding under coffee tables and inside closets.
They soar high above the clouds and
Torpedo downwards, spiraling into roofs
And crashing happiness.
These minions are smart, the devil their
Leader.
The master manipulator.
He slithers over your shoulder and hisses,
Chills run down your spine while he
Slithers upwards.
Stupid, selfish, sadness, sabotage
His hisses gentle like a lamb
But he's a wolf in sheep's clothing.