During mornings to afternoon
are reminders of doubts and fears.
Of whatever I was really afraid of,
I hear the whispers of the monsters in me.
By evening to midnight,
while the world huddles for its rest,
I’m lulled by the songs of insecurity and threats,
of voices and jeers of the monsters in me.
A part of the self that can’t be shunned,
a part of the self that can’t be outran.
To suffocate and be incapacitated
enough to wonder if ever it would get better;
The pains of tugs and pulls and stretch
by the playful and teasing monsters in me.
Creatures of my being, dark and harmful
are part of the existence until… I’m not so sure.
But these thorns inside that pierce and hurt
will always be a puzzle inside of me.