I'm well acquainted with the demons under my bed, know them by name, greet them when they pass me by. I've no qualms in making them come out.
I'm well acquainted with the feelings and the absence of them. Like a switch inside my head, I turn them on and off, only losing control around the ones I trust, I'm battle hardened enough.
Funny to recall how human I seemed to be, twisted inside out by lies and deceit. Guess there were bigger monsters than me.
But much has happened, then and now and in between. Much growing. I've seen loss up close, I've shrugged my shoulders and let it all go. I've used that pretty mask, and they all fall for it, like a moth to a flame. And there are these quaint little circles with not much room in them. Some fall inside, some I pushed out, but don't ask me to care what happens to the people outside. There's no use.
So the monsters have all gone and thrown a stupid tantrum, thinking that it would be alright, that they can go and hurt what's mine. I've said it before, touch what's mine, I break your hands. You're too damn stupid.
Smart monsters don't pick on people that have a monster guarding them. And I'm the biggest, meanest monster in the room. So go get hiding.