Poems of the fragile heart

A war

I'm eighteen and still afraid of the dark.
I'm eighteen and I still believe monsters exist.
The only difference is the monsters live inside my
head not in the closet, and the darkness surrounds
me even in daylight.
And no matter how hard I try, I can't case the monsters out, and I can't light a candle to
navigate me through the dark. It just burns out.
I try to escape. I try to escape, I try to scream and
cry out, but it only comes out as a whisper that no
one hears. There are demons sitting on my lungs.
Making it hard to breathe. I'm suffocating now.
I'm trying to catch my breath, but I can't.
The darkness gets more intense, the monsters
scream in my head. I decide I need a release.
I take out my pen and draw a line, it comes off
dripping red. I sigh, and relief washes over me.
The demons leave my lungs and I can breathe again.
The monsters are laughing now, for they have one
an evil victory. And still all I have is darkness.
I close my eyes, and sleep, for  that is the only
comfort I have.