The Monster

by Molly Jones

Lungs filled with water, yet I’m completely dry.

I try to swim away, yet the monster looms over me.

A parasite latched to my soul,

Sucking away all I desire.

Some days I think it’s better, like it’s truly gone,

Image credit: Justin Wolff on Unsplash

But then I see it watching me,

A wolf stalking its prey.

The tides of change come and go,

Yet it never leaves me.

And then it hits me all at once,

A rubber band pulled taut finally snapped.

The monster tightens its grip,

Cold claws sinking into my very being

My bones feel like lead.

My body no longer feels like my own,

Just a mask for me to put on.

When asked if I’m fine,

I’ll reach for the mask.

I can never let them see the monster,

But they can’t see it anyway.

It’s hidden deep beneath the surface,

Too far from their questions.

I always know it’s there.

I feel it when something goes wrong,

Or there’s an unexpected change.

It’s then that I’m sitting on the bathroom floor,

Head between my knees

As I’m struggling to breathe.

It’s like I’m drowning in the air.

No matter how many breaths I take, it only grips harder.

My nails tear at my own skin, leaving trails of red behind.

The pain is only a distraction for a moment.

“Just breathe.”

How can I when it swallows up any air I have?

When its name alone sends a shiver down my spine,

And forces me to relive every bad moment of my life.

Visions in my head and its voice in my ear,

Laughing.

Cold and cruel and unforgiving.

Everyone has their own monster, though no two look the same.

Some people name their monsters.

Mine is called…

***

Molly Jones

Molly Jones is a 20-year-old born and raised Tennessean. She primarily writes genre fiction but enjoys dabbling in the occasional poetry. So far, this is her first published piece but she hopes to publish more in the future.