The Monster
my minds constantly running from a beast with no chance of escape,
no escaping this beast, he’s already started his feast, chipping away at my resilience, slaughtering my hope, introducing me to negative ways to cope, it’s only a scratch he’ll say it’ll make all your pain go away, in some sense i guess it does, i’m just glad my body’s tough, i don’t do it because i want to die, something about it is keeping me alive, it feeds the monster without hurting my brain, so i’d do it again and again, i’d do anything to lock him out, because i’m so sick of this constant burn out, no time for you to eat, the monsters already eaten, you should know this because you’ve already been beaten, not by family or anyone else, but by your self. the monsters real he’s making me do it, oh how therapists love to consume it, i sit there crying in counselling room, telling them how my monster is building my tomb, a slight squint as the pen scratches the paper, i already know the next question is are you in danger, quick save your self before they think you’re crazy, thank you for your help i’m just being a big baby.
Copyright © Chloe Golding | Year Posted 2022
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