Monsters,
they don't have
reflections.
They sense rejection
and think they're not worth
it.
worth love,
so they get rid of.
themselves.
Their personality,
morality turned upside down.
Originality is,
gone.
So think.
No reflection,
no connection.
Are you a monster too?

My heart is hurting,
Don't know why...
It feels like
I'm dying inside.

My eyes are leaking,
Tears rolling down...
I wished that I
Would've drown.

Why did I say
That awful thing...
I don't regret wishing
Heaven's bells would ring.

The darkness envelops
My sad mind...
Not a thing illuminated,
I am blind.

Every single thought is
Laced with pain...
Like a crimson river,
Blood pours down the drain.

I have died in
My mind already...
I don't want to move;
I feel unsteady.

I look in the mirror,
And shy away...
It hurts to see myself
In such disarray.

I do not wish
To see myself...
The horror as I realize
I am no longer my old self.

I used to speak
Of the monsters...
The ones hiding
Underneath my bed.

My heart is hurting;
I know why...
*Because now I am
The monster that's hiding inside.

We like to be happy, but it's when we are lost,  miserable and enduring that ravenous unrelenting pain that we mature. Its in those, the most challenging moments of life, that create monsters and gods.

demons and monsters

whether personal
    or sprung from  Hollywood creations
    in that vein

seem to be a little bit like gods

you can
     believe in them
     blame them
     adore them
     fear them
     pray to them

but

     or because

you have no proof
they exist

The unwanted the unwashed
Shoved off of life's course
Kicked into the gutter
With the rest of humanity's clutter
Left here to suffer
Against the sorrow there is no buffer

We just lie and languish
In our misery and anguish
If you look you could see
There is enough of us to fill the sea

But people only want happiness and glee
What was created in us, would never let this be
We've been used and abused
So mentally bruised

We where plucked in our prime
When everything in our life rhymed
We where plucked from our vine
But not to be polished and shined

Only to be thrown down
To be stomped on and ground
We lie and ferment
Never to rise to what we where ment

Then like Dr. Frankenstein they are scared of their own creations
When they come to the realization

The monster's that stalk their nights
That invades their dreams when they close their eye's tight
That make them bar their doors and hide out of sight
Are the monsters they have made, ..... And it's only right

******* up her brain
******* up her soul
******* up everything she had ever owned
Locked up her only savior in a cell,
She’s hopeless now, there was no one else
She’s stifled in a cimmerian shell
with a nebulous heart conquered by thrashing bells
Erratic self-deleterious thoughts
A throat filled with uproar and frantic knots
This is what she has become, this is what you’ve made her
She didn’t know if you were the devil, or just the monster within her.