When I was little monsters didn't hide under my bed.

They screamed at me from inside my head.

I dreamt of death and being alone.

I was always crying, never finding a home.

I got older and bigger and learned how to write.

I still awoke screaming nearly every night.

When I was 13 I discovered Edgar Allen Poe.

His monsters and demons always put on a show.

I started to write with his style in mind.

His demons were bad but he hadn't met mine.

The more I wrote the less my dreams were in shreds.

I was writing all the darkness right out of my head.

When I stopped writing my poems the demons came back.

They yelled and they hollered and I couldn't have that.

So I continue to write about my horrible beasts.

If I didn't I'd never have any release.