I think myself so sure,
so right,
so firm,
yet with but a few words
I am filled with doubt,
questioning everything.
This uncertainty gnaws at my sanity,
its sharp teeth tear away at
my rationality,
my logic,
my certainty.
I'm left bleeding and weak
the wolves surround me,
eating what's left of my security.
I thought myself strong,
but oh how wrong of me to think so.
I am too weak from the snake's poison,
the vampire's feeding,
the ghosts' whispers,
her never-ending chatter.
Nineteen long years with monsters in my head--
how am I not insane?
Or, perhaps, was I never sane to begin with?
How feeble, indeed, my mind is
to be destroyed by only a few words
words like wolves.
YOU ARE READING
Monsters Inside My Head
PoetryWARNING: Some pieces may contain triggers for those who struggle with any form of depression or self harm. Please read with caution. I will often rearrange the chapters in the way I see fit, so please be patient and keep that in mind. This is my fir...
