I used to think there were monsters under the bed.
Having to sleep on the floor in my parents’ room gave me a view of under their bed. Nothing was there, I was sure. But when I turn off the lights, I swear beady eyes kept staring into my soul.
Hence, sleep alluded me.
But, as I grew older, they left. Or so I thought.
It was only when I gained the confidence to sleep by myself that I discovered, they didn’t really disappear. They simply moved.
They had resided in my mind all those years. Feeding off my thoughts and dreams, leaving behind crumbs and lifeless bones. The years had left them thirsty for my tears.
Every night I feed them. I give them plenty to drink.
“It’s better this way” is the lullabye I constantly sing to myself.
“As long as they stay here with me, they won’t hurt anyone else” is what I thought.
They’re back, and again, sleep alludes me.