Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2015
I am not scared of the monsters under my bed
or the ones you told me as you went home from
summer camp—(bonfire stories near the lake
of green-eyed goblins and moon howlers with
famgs that oversee the mountains)

I am in fact afraid of the monsters that knock
at 2 am in the morning prying my wooden
chambers of sanity like its playground

—giants that stay on top of my body as the
strongest and closest gravity I could ever know

—two little voices of small people debating
in a prosecution against myself. One brings me
dishonor, another brings me out of dark,
empty cells

—a vampire of the day that ***** out life
as the sun rises to its crown. Once done, I am yet to
fall in a haze of delirium and ecstasy of the sunlessness
that precipitates in my heart


I am afraid because I know them too well. But the thing is,
**they know me better
These measles are slaying me and not in a good way. Too tired to move around.

So this is how depression feels like and much more. They really seem like monsters and it's scarier because they come from you. Also, I'm getting annoyed with people who invalidate my condition with 'Hey it's all in your head' or 'You can just think of happy thoughts' because ******* cant. Do you think I like what is happening to me?Of course not so shut up unless you actually have something decent to say.
epictails
Written by
epictails  Manila
(Manila)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems