Shells.

We’re shells, we meld, we break and we grow. We move across sand to find another home. We move into a new resting place to overcome being alone. But being a shell does not mean they’re all the same because they are so very different, they are all that remains. They are fossils, ancient artifacts, dug up by the future, placed in glass boxes to last.

Hidden Monsters.

I’m not a demon, this is not my shell. Fighting, raging, fierceness within. Let me go, unleash the monster, he’s already out straight from inside. I’m radioactive, watch me blow. Disassemble the world, surprise the crowd, cannot be contained, biochemicals.

Push you down, out of control, heart racing, mind blown. I resist me, you release me.

With me there’s a monster, he’s fighting for life, suppression of the past, making him weak. I expand, he contracts, busting seams, gigantic revolt.

We fight and we fight, but she is fierce. A lion, a tiger, a bear-- amiss. None of these can mark the monster inside, but a scorpion will, darkness’s sidekick.

Firecracker, spitfire, raging, fighting, confused, rhyming, laying, dying. Inside me, inside you, are you going to let it show? Death by chemical, inhale poison, exhale love. This isn’t lust, this isn’t revolt.

In my bones, bass and beats, overtaking the mind, showing monsters, redness. Fast asleep, hurting from burns, brutal and crying, this monster’s myself. Lethal and lonesome, its motives that match mine, with hopes and aspirations crushed by societal design.

Painted red, seeing red, feeling red, drawing red. Looking down, the monster feels. It’s feeding on memories that should not have been. Pushing for revolution.

Music dies, the clock lies, we’ve stopped in time and I’m stuck below. Floating high, breaking free, the monster, again, no longer hidden within me.