Monster

3 Comments

Tags:
  • Angst
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  • Dark Poetry
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  • Sadness
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  • Emotional
    • ,
  • Life

    Monster

     They all say monsters are not real,
    Thats a lie,
    I always hear Olivia monsters are not real!
    I want to scream at them yes they are!
    Im not talking about monsters that a child would fear.
    But the monster that lurks in your mind and soul,
    Who howls and scratches to break free,
    The monster who gets close to all those in pain,
    With gental words and caring thoughts,
    He welcomes you,
    He prays your not to broken,
    He loves breaking you more then needed,
    The monster that promises you will be okay,
    No matter what you do,
    He helps you pick up the blade,
    He helps you ice over your heart,
    He follows feeding,
    On your pain,
    Your anger,
    Your falling apart mind,
    He loves it all.
    Yet Im told monsters are not real.
    Tell me when you meet this monster.
    He is worse then your nightmares....
    Wait no he is your worst nightmares.

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    Rhymer commented on Monster

    09-16-2010

    The monsters search high and low looking for souls to devour. Know well how they invade your dreams. 10 from me.
    Reply to Comment

    Artie commented on Monster

    09-16-2010

    You have a very powerful way of writing. There are worse things than monsters. Those who do not care how their actions affect others, are the worst of all. 10 from me
    Reply to Comment

    Chaos128 commented on Monster

    09-14-2010

    "Monster" is cretainly a hand wringing exposition. I ask you, though, are we not able to defeat monsters of our own creation? You do know how to create an atmosphere. I could almost hear creepy organ music while I read it. Impressive work.
    Reply to Comment

    OutcastAmber

    09/15/2010

    You can only push the monster you create down so far they will always lurk. Once you do something like cut you can never fully stop there will always be a wanting to go back and do it, its the same with the monsters you create they give you that false sense of security that you cant find elsewhere and you will always want to go back to it.

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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