Monsters


I have a lot of monsters in my room
Something is calling me there
But I could never face the skeletons in
The closet of the dead, past me I killed
Not the whimpers from the pain
I try not to hear
Time crawls through the window, cracked
Leaving inky prints upon the floor
Of memories that that used to rest
But are here no more
There is sadness under the bed
And fist holes in the door
But something is calling me here
Strength. Let it whisper in your air
“You have a lot of monsters in your room
And they are nothing but air.” Conditioning

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