I stopped looking for monsters when I realized I was one
with my innate ability to slice you, insides cascading with a pool of blood surrounding your body, wide the **** open.
I gave up on my search when the mirror, toothpaste stains, reflected exactly the monster I searched for deep within the eyes of family, friends and strangers alike. **** those deceitful eyes, wide with false innocence. I dine with the devil, cooking him the burning flesh of the hopeless souls defeated by his beautiful lies.
I remember the day I fell,
my heart was a puddle beneath my feet and hope a flower smashed in my hands. I was deserted, left for dead by the people meant to love me the most. And there it was, a life--if you could call it that--free of broken promises used as the building blocks of the foundation that creates the ruthless world we live in.
I stopped looking for monsters when I realized it wasn't my heart that produced the thumping in my chest. A hollow cavity with squishing like mac and cheese, cheesy wet noodles. The thumping, though, is all unique in itself, the symphony of aching memories crashing against each other beneath the surface of this monster that I am--the distance memories of happiness mocking me.

I don't look for monsters anymore. It seems silly.