I spent my childhood checking beneath the bed,
Terrified of fangs and claws hiding in the dark.
I built walls around my life,
Swore I would never let a monster in.
But when you arrived, you didn’t look like a monster.
You just looked hungry.
You took a small piece of my time, a fragment of my peace,
And I smiled. I called it grace. I called it love.
I forgave the minor thefts,
Believing my kindness would change your appetite.
But a thief forgiven is just a thief invited back.
First, you took the hours. Then you took the days.
You took my voice, my friends, my pride.
And every time, I left the door wide open,
Whispering to the empty room, “This is the last time.”
Now, I am standing in the hollow remains of a plundered life.
I look into the dark, searching for the beast that destroyed me.
But there are no glowing eyes in the shadows.
There is only a mirror.
The monster was never the one who took everything.
The monster was the coward inside me,
Smiling softly,
And handing over the keys.