It's almost

five,

and the sun

still isn't

up.

All the lights

are off,

everyone who isn't

here is still

asleep.

We stay up

in our

bed.

The shadows

whisper.

We can't hear

what they're

saying,

but they're

saying something

to us.

We can feel

them watching.

Waiting.

Waiting for

a response

they know we'll never

give.

Still, they

wait.

Satisfied.

Satisfied with the

fear they fill

our soul

with.

We can't do

anything.

That's the best part.

All we

can do is wait.

Wait to overflow.

Wait to explode.

To burst.

The shadows,

they wait, too.

It's raining,

it's pouring,

it's flooding,

it's thundering,

it's overflowing,

it's pounding,

it's drowning.

We're raining,

we're pouring,

we're flooding,

we're thundering,

we're overflowing,

we're pounding,

we're drowning.

Unlike a thunderstorm, we cannot stop

When we were a kid

we create monsters in our head.

When we grew up,

they grew up too, and grew stronger

while we grew weaker.

They lived in our head and

fed off our fear.

Acknowledging their existence made them

stronger.

We'll grow up and they'll continue

consuming us. Consuming our

every waking moment

with fear.

We stay the same little kid that made

the monsters until we

become the monsters we could never get rid of.