To be completely honest, they’re too much to handle. They are sounds that scare me but they’re the closest thing to home. They are faces that hinder my sleep but they comfort me through the night.
They still manage to have a heart, my heart, and with that, they’re too human to be called monsters.
I can’t deny, they’re always there when I cry. When no one sees me, they see me. They just sit there. They don’t speak or laugh. They don’t whisper to each other. Instead, they hold me. They hold me until the last drop of my tears has fallen down and they wait. If I want to speak, I do. When I don’t, they keep holding me until I fall asleep.
They’re warm like home but I wish they didn’t feel cold against my skin.