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.