maybe the monster under the bed will listen to me.

lately, I've been feeling disheartened

can't withstand the test of time

why did reality have to snatch everything I thought was mine?

and I want to talk to someone about this

but who?

I can't talk to my mother

because I don't want to disappoint her

I can't talk to my father

empathy's not even in his dictionary

I can't talk to my brother

he goes through worse than me

and maybe even further

I can't talk to my friends

they think I'm seeking attention again.

so I lay on my

bed at the corner at twelve and

I cry

I cry

I cry

(maybe the monster under the bed will listen to me)