When the monsters called for me it was not by my name
but that does not matter to monsters like these.
We like you best when you’re shaking, they said. We
like you best when you feel like your head is on fire.
They said: We don’t want to know because we already
know. Don’t ask how just shut the fuck up and listen.
You can’t fight monsters like these. They crave your
burning blood they eat your angry your hateful your selfish.
They consume every part of you that you have tried
to learn to love and they leave you with the rest.
Please stop, I said. Please won’t you stop? But monsters
like these don’t understand question marks or the word please.
Monsters like these tell you to sign your name on the
dotted line and swallow it. They spit out your name
so it is something ugly now, so it is unrecognizable.
So if you say: I know I am made of precious stuff,
they will say: Nothing is precious you are a pinpoint
in history and even less on your better days.
When the monsters came to take me away it was not by my hand
but by my neck and when I looked into their eyes I saw myself.
By Samantha Brynn
Always too soft and always looking for a fight, Samantha Brynn is a sarcastic New Yorker who cares too much about people she thinks she knows. She likes pretending to be other people on stages and in general. She is not the monster under your bed. She is not a black cat at your door. She is not a ghost, but a person. Honestly.
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