dust untouched

Under your Bed

They used to say 
monsters live
under your bed.
But when I look under mine
with no shock at all,
all there is under
is a mess concealed
in the dark.

But maybe that's all the horror that is.

I am terrified
of the mess that is my head,
of the monsters that live inside me
and the dirt they leave in my lungs
that I suffocate with words unspoken.
I am terrified
that my life is too much
of a havoc,
the edges are uneven,
the stitches are torn,
and I cannot pull myself together.

The monsters were never under my bed;
they walk with me
even in broad daylight.

Aren't you scared?

That maybe one day
The people you devote yourself to
The people you want to be better for
And the person you say is the one meant for you
Will not see you for you effort,
not see you for your big heart,
not see you for you beaming smiles,
But see you for the mess you are,
Hate you for the chaos in your heart
And the mayhem in your head.

Maybe I am afraid
of the mess.
Because all my life
they are the monsters
they say that is
'under my bed'
haunting me
day

and 
night,
awake
or
asleep.