Sometimes, I hear them. They whisper quietly, words that I don't know. I understand them, nonetheless. The tell me dark things. Things of pain and torture and death. Things that I do not want. They scream at me in angst sometimes of what I cannot say. When I speak to someone in public, they'll scream louder for me to get away. I want to fight them- I really do- but how do you kill the monsters inside you?
YOU ARE READING
Cover It Up
RandomWhen I'm alone, thoughts come into my head. These thoughts make sentences and sentences stories. I'm going to put them all right here...
