The monster that has no name.
The faceless beast that makes one feel
Utterly helpless
Simply by pretending to be
As warm as a blanket on a cold night
But really wrapping one
In a layer of despair and melancholy
Wound so tight that
We can barely feel the heaving of our chest,
Reducing the bravest souls
To a weeping, dishevelled mess
Curled up in a ball on the unwelcoming concrete
Eyes shut tight
Trying to block out anything
That may ever inflict pain
Ever again.