by Poetically Yours, Chesca

It leaves.
Then it comes back.
It haunts me.
I forget about it.
It’s still there.
It does not exist,
Yet it is my greatest fear.

The monsters in my head,
That I call fear, jealousy and insecurities.
They are ghosts that should have died;
Lingering and following me around.

They make this puzzle so complex.
Though I am almost finished
And already holding the last piece.
Why am I searching for other pieces
To complete the missing space,
When the answer is already in my hands?
And all I have to do is to place it down.

And what seemed like an easy jigsaw
Becomes a stage performance,
And I am the actor with only one line.
The monsters, they scream.
They try to taunt me.
I struggle to fight back,
But I see them in the crowds.
And what seemed like one line
Felt like a dictionary I had to memorize.
And I mess up.
The monsters have won.
They always find a way to take over me.

This was an old piece. One of the very first poems that I am actually pretty proud of.