There is a monster inside of her. I think it lives in her shoulders, they are usually heavy. Sometimes it crawls inside her stomach, shaping the curves that form her delicate waist, eating away all that she doesn’t, leaving her thin and beautiful. Sometimes it looks through her eyes. When she’s dancing and looking at you with happy smiling sparkling eyes, that’s it. Sometimes it makes her toes tingle and her veins throb, but she is too intoxicated to notice. When she sleeps, it gives her innocent dreams of the boy she kissed last night. She doesn’t know what love is but she imagines its something like kisses. And when she’s dreaming it whispers in her ears, “you’re impossible, you’re impossible.” She wakes up more and more tired every day

HER even lines her steady temper show ;
Neat as her dress, and polish'd as her brow ;
Strong as her judgment, easy as her air ;
Correct though free, and regular though fair :
And the same graces o'er her pen preside
That form her manners and her footsteps guide.

That force that takes control of your logic.
A slave to its fury.
You created it.
Your conscience frowns.
A simple catalyst forced its presence in your soul.
It now creates your expression.
Your face frowns.
One simple emotion that takes on a face of its own.
It growls at its opponents.
It conforms you to its ways and expression.
You wear a permanent scowl on your heart.
You look at your hands,
You don’t recognize the wrinkles drawn by rage.
You look at your feet,
You can’t see them because they have sank.
Deep into a pit of turmoil.
What do you feel?
Disgust.
Your heart frowns.

I have met wonderful people
People who have shown me the secrets they know about how a life should be lived
And everyone’s got their own answers
To face the tests that come from each day of living
I have shown these people my solutions as well
But God passed a different exam to each person
Testing their will power, questioning their faith
And on the outside you can see the small struggles I’m facing
But a greater battle is waging beneath my thick flesh
I hide the fight I face each day
From the wandering eyes of strangers
And even some familiar faces may never see the darker side in me
Time and time again I deny the entirety of my existence
But as my bones lay exposed
And people see what I’m made of
Will they too deny that I exist?

Where do the dreams that aren't remembered go?
You know those dreams,
the ones that you wake up having a vague idea about,
yet you can't seem to remember it in its entirety.
Where do they go?
Do they go to dream purgatory,
because they weren't good enough to be remembered?
I guess the same goes for people.
All of those lost souls,
who never had anyone.
No one to care for them,
and no one to remember them.
It's my biggest fear.
Being forgettable.
The idea of living my entire life,
just to be forgotten when I die,
it terrifies me.
That isn't my only fear though,
I'm afraid of other things too,
like:
rejection,

                   society,

                                 my own reflection.
However,
next time I lay down to sleep,
I will try my hardest to remember those dreams,
because I know someday,
I will be one of them.
Sitting with the worry of
Being forgotten,
lonely,
orphaned.
Waiting patiently for the night to pass
and another opportunity to rise,
so that maybe this time,
I'll be good enough.
Memorable enough.