2nd person is so fun to write in.
They never look the same after their souls die.
Thats all you can remember. But while you are walking it all comes back.
Everyone knows you can't fix monsters.
You whisper to yourself as you walk up the stairs.
But what no one knows is that Monsters are just the ones with half mended hearts and half broken minds.
You say this as you check the door numbers, finding the right one.
They never look the same after their souls die.
You ring the door bell, holding your breath. No one answers.
Some, like me, choose to be broken. Those are the true monsters.
You pick at the lock trying to be silent.
You realize that the poem you wrote has a lie in it.
You didn't choose to be a monster, you got paid to be a monster.
But you don't really think you're a monster.
The door swings open and you are greeted with a mess.
Half crumpled pages and half formed ideas.
You find her stooped over a desk, writing frantically.
She looks at you with fear in her eyes.
You find her...... dead.
A knife is in your left hand and blood is on the right.
You catch a glimpse of what she wrote.
At the top of the page in bold letters, is one word.
Monster.
You look at her body one last time.
You guess you are a monster after all.
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Well, what do you think? Hope you enjoy!
