Dear Spirit

What we destroy, and what angels pretend
There is a fine line, between a occurrence and a trend

There is always a cage with iron bars and rusty locks
Warning labels for things that you swore you had forgot

Toss and turn when the boogey man comes to take you
But not even the monsters can startle or break you

Not after me, all the things I have done
Please tell me, dear spirit, what have I become?