Monsters are real

I lay my head down on your empty chest, Listen to the echo in the caverns where your heart should be. I admit I didn't see it soon enough. While I cooked for you every night I didn't realize you were making meals of my youth. While I tried to apologize and tell you I loved you, you made meals of my self worth. You hunger for my pain. You crave for me to feel worthless. You thirst for me to feel so horrible, I won't notice the ugly inside you. I see it. I felt it when you got angry, and you kneed me in the ribs last night. All I saw was that ghoul that you hide inside your chest. The grotesque beast that claws its way out of you to devour whatever hope and youth I have left. The one that turns your hands into wrecking balls, This home into a warzone, words into bullets. And me into a coward, hiding behind the bed. I pray something will deliver me from the evil inside of you. I hope someone can shelter me from this beast. I lay my head on your empty chest, And I think of all the times my mother told me, "Monsters aren't real". I remember her looking under the bed to show me there was nothing. She loved me so much, She thought I was safe, She wanted me to feel that way. She was wrong. Granted, so was I. And it took me more than 20 years to figure that out. One day the sunlight will strike your face, Your eyes will open, And finally, the world will come into focus. At last the picture is clear. Monsters are real. And ones been laying beside you all along.