Monster Poem

He said he loved too easily

I knew I was a monster when I remembered how hard it had been

How much of a choice it had to be

Sitting in defining isolation

A deafening silence swirling around me

As I keep up an inaccurate act

An honest one

A hidden one

Completely genuine

But still a performance

They say to be loved is to be seen

A thing people can simply fall into

A drug they can’t quit

I was not built for it

I was made for campfires and conspiracy theories

To be talked about not seen

I am the monster hiding in the rain

Named from blurry photos and footprints

My legacy is a tattered collection of scraps and imprints

The moments proof of me couldn’t be hidden

The only curiosity tangential to my name is if I’m real

I wonder that sometimes too

If the world I’ve built only occupies the minds of scared children and conspiracy theorists

If my life is only scattered across newspaper clippings and found footage

If knowing me has become a puzzle people are only mildly interested in solving

Something people only talk about when they’re high

I grew up reading stories and watching shows about misunderstood monsters

Banished to meaningless exile

Lonely and lost

Only respected in ghost stories and nightmares

I fear my monster-hood has not been misinterpreted

My self-inflicted banishment exists only because of me

My inability to freely give the parts I like hidden

My hesitance to love

The home I have built in solitude and my fear of leaving it

But I am terrified of not taking the hint

Accidentally begging someone to love me

Pushing until they can’t stand me

Turning dreams into nightmares

So I hide under beds and behind trees

Hoping that a glimpse of me is enough