[Small TW for mentions of self harm]
The monster under your bed isn't too bad.
Sleepless nights talking to him are nice as well.
The monster understands, he doesn't get mad.
Unlike everyone else, of whom your thoughts dwell.
You know he watches.
You know he's always there.
The stories you tell him fall in blotches,
But he doesn't need details, he will only care.
When the morning rolls over however,
He's gone to spill your secrets to his monster friends.
Unlike you, he is quite clever.
He tugs on your loose ends.
You know he talks about you behind your back,
But you won't do anything about it.
He's the only one that has your back.
Even when you start to slit.
"Well you have new friends now, don't you?"
"Why don't you talk to them about this?"
The monster found out you now have new friends, it's true.
Why does he care about your friends when you don't care about his?
Maybe he wasn't as loyal as you thought.
Maybe that's why you don't talk to your new friends,
Your heart was caught.
In another friendship you thought wouldn't end.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
PoetryThoughts that keep me up at night, written into poetry. I would like to say I am no expert at poetry, never have and probably never will be. So most of these are probably pretty bad. I just want to write out my thoughts with the possibility of someo...
