I’m that monster under your bed
You fear me
Or you want me
Don’t worry
I only hurt the ones that want me
So just fear me
You’d be better off

If a broken heart still beats
It can still love

And what would happen if you
Looked into my eyes...

And realised?

These glazed eyes,
A distorted tautologous window.

A facade of transparency.
The window is misted
It’s distorted with the touch of an October morning.

And I fear.

You will not see through this window,
This glass.
Until it has shattered,
And all that remains is a soul,
That has been freed.

And if the best poems are written by squeezing the heart,
And by dipping the pen in the ink of agony,

Maybe, I've not written mine yet.

"You should smile more,"
said the man.
"You'd be prettier that way."