I befriended the monster
in my heart, under the bed,
hidden away in the depths of my closet.
(It was a slow process; like
vomit and bile building up behind
my lips.)
My friends told me in a half-whisper
that he was vile and disgusting
like the dust that gathered up in my room
(worthless),
even if he was just like me,
the same but different.
And I tore holes in their hearts, gripped
my fingernails into their eye sockets
and scraped and pulled and smiled.
They stopped, stared in shock, because
they thought they'd slayed that
beast already.
And I threw their words far from heaven,
close to hell.
Mother; I'm sorry
I wondered if I had disappointed you then,
because I had heard more than I was told.
