When you write about monsters,
everyone expects you to be insane.
When you write about imposters,
they expect the very same.

Radical, non-conformist.
Your opinions, I’m sad to say.
Won’t sorely be missed,
as over the years you begin to decay.

But being who you are,
you don’t care what they think.
You’ll write about the monsters from afar,
but beware, they’re closer than you think.

I’ll write about my monsters,
if only to expel them from my mind.
Yes, I’ll write about the monsters,
in the hopes that I’ll leave them behind.

Nothing more than words on paper.
Graphite and ink as their only substance.
Ghosts exorcised as haunting vapor.
No more nightmares in abundance.