The monster inside me. It ripped me apart everyday. It caressed my neck with a shaky breath. The monster breathed fire and exhaled ice.
This monster wasn't naught not nice. It would cause me into such a wreck.
The monster is builds me up every morning, a new start.
And then it rips me apart.
I hear it chuckle in the midst of it all.
I see him cackle as I fall.
But I love this monster, I love it so much.
Although the monster could kill me with a single touch.
This monster hasn't felt love because this monster is blind. Yet he sees my love all the time.
I used to hate the monster, but we learn to forgive.
And forgave I did. This monster is dead to compliments blind to love. Tasteless to lust and cannot smell me.
This monster lives within me.
This monster is me.
YOU ARE READING
A breathing monster
PoetryMonsters breathe. So do we. Monsters see and hear and feel and taste. So do we. We look just like monsters and think like them too. We are monsters at their finest.
