The Monsters Come

The Monsters Come Every morn, the monsters come. They come to attack my day. Every morn it’s the same, and every day, they strive away. The skeletons from closets scream, while vampires claw from crypts. They draw and draw until I am spent. Every day they come. The Monsters come. Ghosts of words unsaid, and desires of demons ripping. Wraiths of past things done; chasing my peace away. Giants stomping out hopes and dreams; while spewing fear, doubt and shame. The Worm digs and burns through; everything. They destroy the day. The darkness hangs like a cloud. It smothers my hopes today. I need coffee, and some light, to stand tall, and live loud. Let’s drive the monsters away. chrisbunton.blogspot.com