Monsters

By Antaya

There's nothing more,
then this never ending dream,
then pain from this,
evil scheme.

Creating worlds with my mind,
Collecting hearts in my spare time.

Life's hard,
like I said,
so is love.
You're better off dead.

These dark things inside of me,
they come crawling out,
at night,
trying to convince me,
saying they won't bite.

They hide in corners,
between the sheets,
they come crawling out,
on mottled feet.

These Evil things,
they're the worst in me,
they bring out my bad side,
a gruesome song they all sing.

They all shift and waver,
there being never quite...
intact,
there tongues flick the air,
looking for a particular...flavor.

What they're looking for,
I know not,
they're my monsters,
looking for what they want.

Searching for a new brood,
to mate with,
to make new monsters with,
To continue the line of blood.

But then i realized,
that the monsters weren't,
around me,
the monsters were inside me..

The monster is me.

I shift I waver,
I'm never quite the same,
 I am a monster...

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2015 Antaya
Published on Tuesday, April 21, 2015.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "Monsters"

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  • A former member wrote: Antaya invites the reader to begin again, much as a traditional fairy tale story asserts that every ending is the natural loop of opportunity to return to the point of beginning. This poem intends to push the reader into the realm of myth and reality—that which instructs us most in myth and fairy story is the message between the layers of language and narrative, much like how life imitates art. All good stories invite revisiting, and Monsters is no exception.

  • A former member wrote: very well done! ~ hdl

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