On Trust

I do occasionally write feelings poetry.

A monster sits in my chest and my belly
Coiled and waiting to strike.
It rips open my newly-torn, nearly-healed scabs
Spears my heart on a razor-sharp pike.

Every time I have wandered out,
And put my heart on display - 
That monster sits in outside in waiting,
To dine without delay.

Others open hearts and minds,
And suffer no reproach!
Living lives of trust and love,
That monsters dar'nt approach.

What I'd give to live that life!
As open as summer skies - 
To never fear the cunning monster
Pain hanging before my eyes.

Author's Note

I don't usually publish the stuff I write when I'm feeling bad, but this one turned out particularly well.