When you're the monster under your own bed,
you forget that you slept here too once.
That the shadows were meant for more than hiding in them.
When did you start turning off the night light?
When did your hands start dancing in your sleep?
Trailing up and down your wrist like a lost boat at sea, aching to come home from the war; You forget who you're fighting against sometimes.
You see, it's easier to blame the person you can't see then the one laying in your bones.
I tell my therapist that i'm just trying to figure out where these claws are growing from.
Digging in my skin is easier than asking myself why I have the shovel in my hands to begin with.