Dream

It was a dream

Inside a locked room,

A dream about being a person.

I came into that room

and I saw

The ugly deformities

and unbelievable atrocities

that we all hide

And I don’t know.

I don’t know why we hide them

I don’t know why we only show

The vulnerable

these parts.

These damaging parts,

With our mental health

Chugging along a tightrope

That strains under the weight

Of locomotive thoughts

And fantasy coal.

I came and I saw the end of all that

Is good and right,

Until I came to the end

Of that dream

And I knew.

I am not a person,

And we are all monsters.