I am my own monster.
The feeling of nothing creeps over my back
Holding me as if is it desperate for attention.
But when it really hits me
It's not a cloud
Or a dark figure
But a house
One that could never be called home
It's larger than life
But too small to fit the entirety of my mind
I sit alone
Alone
My body a mess on the floor
Folded up to fit so small.
I either stare into space,
Too much on my mind to even blink
Or I'm shaking
Pulling out what little hair I have left
The child within me
Still losing hair
In a house
That can never be called a home
I am my own monster
I can feel it creeping around my shoulders
Holding me as if it is desperate for attention
Here in the house
That could never be called a home.
