x. MONSTERS.
it's deep in this darkness where light doesn't burn. shallow waters hold everything you fear, tip toeing down your spine in hope the cobwebs don't stick the way they used to. it's where blood hands don't heal, wash away, nor find their way back home. it's where hearts devour themselves in mold, you are left poisoned ivy, icy cold. foam at the mouth, plead for God while your eyes turn charcoal black.
become the monster you used to fear under your bed.
tell me what you fear the most
and try not to answer with,
"myself."
YOU ARE READING
what tomorrow brings.
Poetryxvii, april. (iii). you have no voice if no one is listening. © playlist poetry h.r. : #3
