The Beast

We used to look for monsters beneath our bed. Used to pull the sheets up to avoid getting frightened. But now all I know is we are the ones who hold it inside us. As kids it's a monster, something we fear, something that roams. As teenagers we see it is inside us, a comforting stone, yet a pitiful hole. We begin to loathe, but not them... no, no. We begin to loathe ourselves for not being what we think is great. Many see it as comfort, others as a mirror. Some carry it inside us emotionally while others carry it in their faces full of fear. We try to distract ourselves, but it no longer works. What we once drew as kids lingers near our souls, hanging on tight like it's a rope. Our life feels like a cliff, we wanna reach teh end. But when we were younger we used to hope it never ends. Ironic isn't it? what our parents thought was silly we now hold and befriend as they take our hand. With this it all goes away, both my love and my hate. My life disappears as the leaves blow Northern way.... The cliff had an end, but I ran too fast. I caught up with it before it was my time. Now the rope in my room no longer holds pressure as the weight of my body becomes lighter and air is fresher.