Monsters

When I was ten, I searched for mosters under my bed. Now that I'm older they say that I'm crazy. They say it's all in my head.

But I know monsters exist, they're as real as dogs, or birds, or trees. The reason I know this, is because I know the one inside of me.

It tends to come out at night, when I'm tired, alone, and afriad. It tells me it can make me happy, it says "kid, you'll have it made!"

It said it would make me skinny, popular, and cool. But oh, to trust this monster, I realized I was a fool.

For while this monster makes you smaller, he begins to grow; and before you can even stop it, there's no way to make it slow. 

The monster has taken over I am nothing anymore. The monster that was inside me, has finally won this war.