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The night she realised monsters were real,
Was the night it could have been too late,
They didn't have glowing eyes that felt like lasers on exposed skin,
Or breath that manifested itself as fire,
They walked among us,
But they were not us,
For people like us didn't have this sick desire,
Forcing young girls to stare down the barrel of a shotgun,
Toying with multiple lives in their hands,
That night she had encountered an actor,
Playing the role of 'God',
Deciding the date people would meet death,
But he was not holy; just simply a fraud,
He may not have had glowing eyes,
Or breathed fire,
But he was truly a monster,
As monsters do monstrous things.
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Think. || A Collection Of Poems
PoesiaA collection of poems that I wrote one day that mean something to me.
