When I was little, like all kids
I was afraid of the monster that
Lived under the bed.

Now that I am older
I am still afraid of monsters,
But now they don’t live under the bed.

My monster live in me.
Me who feeds the beast
Who screams at two in the morning.

Humans don’t make good cages,
Our bones are just too weak
To hold up against this burden.

I know because most days, when dawn
Awakes to kiss the horizon,
I am still at war to keep the beast within.

So when people ask me about the scars,
The ones that litter my wrist, my thighs, my back,
What am I suppose to say, but casualties of war.

Because this is the greatest battle
I have ever known:
The Battle of Monster in my Head.