The Monster

This is hell

Fine.

Do you know why?

No. Of course not.

I’m done talking now

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I know this is hard

I don’t want your fucking sympathy

Is it okay to let it all out?

No. Of course not.

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I swerved recklessly

Alone, not quite sane

Not quite straight

Could I have saved her?

No. Of course not.

Welcome to my hell.

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Deep breath

RUN

The demons are coming

Tripping, falling, breaking

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Hit high

Fall low

Oh god

Save me

Hell no

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I’d have gotten lost

Most definitely

Weaving, grasping

Being.

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Wounded heart

Need a bitter drink

Of the monster

This poem is not written in my own words. It was a writing assignment for my creative writing class. We had to take something ordinary, like a newspaper or a book, and turn it into a poem. I chose to use one of the books in the Crank series by Ellen Hopkins.