They gnaw at my brain,
Tearing it to bits.
Relentless,
Until I call it quits.
But I don't want to,
I hate to lose.
Futile,
I don't think I can choose.
Soon there'll be nothing left,
Only a dark, black hole.
Empty,
Of what's left of my soul.
YOU ARE READING
monsters
PoesiaWhat monsters hide under your bed? Or more importantly, i n y o u r h e a d ? *trigger warning*? ***trigger warning*** (when applies: lowercase is intentional)
