Her mother told her to remain in bed,
Under the blankets from toe to head,
For there were monsters who crept under them,
Unfortunately, she forgot to tell her daughter,
That some monsters wore human flesh.
Days passed and there she stood again,
In the blank space of her head,
All on her own and naked,
To fight the monsters;
Who were never down her bed,
But in those who wore the human flesh.
She leashed all the anger she had,
Wiped all the tears she wept,
Even foolishly tore the skin that was left
With the poisonous and sickening touch
Of a monster who wore human flesh.
The year whisked in a flash,
A kind of catastrophe it was,
That people's pity can never mend,
Nor the absurd victim blame.
The monster is gone,
But there she stood again,
In the blank space of her head,
To save herself from the other monsters,
Who might not be down her bed,
But in those who wore human flesh.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Melancholy
PoetryThe ink made of sky Drenches the dusty page Tales that dropped From the clouds in my head. •More Than Ever Blue •The Monsters Who Wore Human Flesh •The Tale of That Time •In Loving Memory of •Void Heart •The Wounded Child •The Fallen Fate •Unlike t...
