Her secret is this,
(Though she has been set free)
Sometimes she longs for the
False safety of her prison
Yet wakes up at night in
A sweat
From a nightmare
That she has returned.
Sleep does not welcome her
Back
After that.
Plagued.
Motionless for fear of
Being caught,
She will not blink.
Covers soaked and wrapped around her as if
Some magical
Shield from monsters and beasts.
In the darkness she hides.
She prays
For peace within
A prison of a
Different sort.
She lives in a nightmare.
The
Monsters are not under her bed
Or in her head.
They are not in the closet
Or in a movie.
The are
Sleeping soundly in their beds.
And she wonders if they ever have nightmares of their own
For
They are in the other room
Of her home.
She is made from their
Flesh and bone.
Hold your words quietly,
Peacefully
In your mouth
Before
Putting breath
Into them.
It is better to let
The thorny ones
Dissolve on your
Tongue,
In silence.
No matter how painful it may seem for you
To contain them.
Thorny words grow into uncontrollable Monsters once released
Wreaking havoc on hearts and souls.
Poking holes in hope.
Creating stones and
Destroying peace.
Weigh your words wisely.
The monsters of men.
Chole Into Diamonds 