Monsters

All is fine, but not is mine,

as dreams stilll haunt me daring.

As time goes, through highs and lows,

they come quick to mind, not caring.

Not blood, nor moan, would hurt alone,

as demons stand all glaring.

No thought will wane, while I’m insane.

My armaments I’m wearing.

They taunt me so, and will not go!

Their shrieks and cries keep blaring!

Now I’m awake, I scarce can take,

the thought of thier declaring.

We’ll meet again. I don’t know when.

And so your teeth, you will be baring.

This poem is about my actual dreams. Most, if not all, consist of monstrous nightmares with demons and creatures. I started having these dreams when I accidentally viewed a horror movie at the age of five. Since then, I have used my dreams to an advantage by turning them into deep and meaningful poems. This emotion is a combination of fear and satisfaction. It is just like that feeling of going into a, not so dangerous, haunted house, and coming out ALIVE! It's unrealistic and there is no real danger, but you feel as though putting yourself through that kind of fear was worth it because you gained courage. I have a very unexciting life. This gets me very depressed, but knowing that maybe I will end up in a world of horrors, chases, monsters, killers, and endless mazes, will make me more willing to go on. I am also glad that these dreams are so real (and that I am such a chicken so as to fear them more), because it means the excitement and adventure will be all the better.