He Is My Monster

My anxiety wakes me at 7 am everyday, 

He holds me hostage in bed 

Pries my eyes open 

Projects these scenes onto my walls

He Forces me to remember memories

I don't want to visit

I lay there staring up at the ceiling 

Replaying old conversations 

Different endings to each one 

Wondering which would have been better than the original  

He is my monster 

He wakes me everyday 

He waits for my fear to feed him 

My anxiety forces me to think of every decision I have doubted 

I taint all good memories with small doses of doubt and regret 

I want to keep them pure and innocent but 

HE DOES NOT LET ME 

Instead he straps me to my bed

And he keeps my eyes pulled open 

He tapes my mouth shut 

Whispers in my ears that all my memories are worthless 

That I am worthless 

That nothing I do will ever outweigh my past 

That he is my everything 

That he is my life 

That he is me 

And that I am nothing more than my anxiety 

But I have made a decision  

You see, 

I have decided to starve my monster 

I am no longer continuing this cycle 

We will have a new morning routine

I will wake myself in the mornings 

I will make myself coffee and toast

While I reminisce my moments of love and happiness 

And they will not be destroyed by him 

Because He does not exist 

He was created by me 

Created in a time of weakness and loneliness

But now, I am not alone.

Perhaps I was never alone, just young and afraid.

And now in realizing this

I have decided that I am done with him

I will no longer allow that weakness to control me.

Author's Note

I have a million reasons to why I stopped writing but mostly bc I lost hope in my poetry. I've been working on preforming my poems so I'll probably be more active now that my faith is restored. Leave lots of comments please. It's rough and I wrote it in a drunken time while realizing I am happy and will fight my depression with more effort. lol.

Reviews

[Sir Drift & Mr. Pulse]

There are things in life that struggle us all, they seep the mellow happynes within and steer the car to roads that have no end. And then comes you, your personal angel, the will of trying and fighting and roaring to so many options, you throw depression into the wind and hope it lands far to the south never to return, but it will, and this time you will be waiting to confront it.

[Cecilia]

Thank you for your amazing words. Really enjoyed that you understood my thoughts.