Everytime I step in to my room, the tension arises. Suffocating me as if the windows are closed and the spaces between my door is sealed. I'd sit on the corner, because that's their favorite space, then it will calm down.
Seconds later after I embraced my knees and lean my head, I'll hear whispers. Unfamiliar voices and growls, words of negativities and re-enactment of past. They're killing my soul.
My chest will start to ache, and the noise will be of a party. Laughing voices, teases of defeat. They are monsters.
And I can't tell anyone they're here, because I'm not sure how many they are. I am not sure how many of us are becoming a victim everyday, making our places hollow.
I'm not sure how to end them or push them away. This problem, can't be solved by just crying or screaming or telling people that I'm so tired of being here.
So I will harm myself.
Because I'm not sure until when this feast of invisible dark monsters will end in my mind.
YOU ARE READING
The Darkness That Conquers Me
PoetrySome people may not understand the content and some may relate. I want people to know that this is common and might eat you alive. They say when you know you're being a victim, seek help. But it's not everytime that people will help people.
