The truth is that there are no monsters.
Staring at a window on the dark nights of summer
will yield no terror worse than the reflection
of your frightened eyes in moonlight.
I bar my gates.
I lock my doors.
I do not own a single mirror.
My voice reflects off polished glass
and through the silence, here is the echo
of me sitting in the dark, weeping.
Staring at a window on the dark nights of summer
will yield no terror worse than the reflection
of your frightened eyes in moonlight.
I bar my gates.
I lock my doors.
I do not own a single mirror.
My voice reflects off polished glass
and through the silence, here is the echo
of me sitting in the dark, weeping.
Amazing how warm and beautiful and sunny summer can be, yet how well the monsters still can thrive.
ReplyDeleteThe truth is that there are no monsters. None living under your bed that can suck your blood or bite off your hand if you let it slip too far down. But there are monsters everywhere in your heart and mind and projecting out your eyes. And they live only by our own sin and fear.
Monsters. Are. Scary.
Especially when a locked door will do nothing to keep them out.
...
That is my reaction to this piece.