Monsters

My colorful children’s books taught me to run away from monsters
Their dangerous fangs, long claws and menacing looks
They’re crawling from the shadowy corners of my little bedroom
There they are lurking in the night, if I misbehaved, if I stayed up too long

My gritty young adult books taught me to be wary of monsters’ shapes
Their deceivable smiles, their hollow perfect figures and blue eyes.
They’re coming for the innocence, the admirable dreams to wreck
There they are in plain sight, if I try to blend, If I would be naive

My adult books taught me to recognize monsters everywhere always
Their unrecognized behavior, hidden claws, unreadable looks
They’re walking normally amongst the rest of the victims
There they are hunting, consciously, if I don’t pay attention.

My life taught me to have monsters as friends and to learn from them
Their behavior is a necessary mechanism to make the world work for them
They’re doing their best, with what they’ve been dealt with growing up
There in their darkness, they’ve learned to shine their light.

My book would be about the balance of this monstrosity, called living
Their behavior is what we all do, everyday, without fail, pretending
They’re just less shy about it. They have to, there’s no choice
There is abomination in behavior, but what if your situation were the same

I will not run away from monsters now,
I approach them because I have questions
And then there I’ll shine that light.
In my own darkness.