The monsters under your bed
are not really there,
but instead,
they live only
inside your own head.
The lies you tell yourself,
you do not see.
You close your eyes,
so you can never know all the lies.
The worries that stop you
were seeds once,
planted by you.
Your worries water them,
and oh how they grow.
Oh how they grow…
The darkness you judge in others,
is not just in them.
The same thing you hate,
belongs to you too.
None of us are saints.
None of us are saints.
None of us are saints.
Still,
we always
throw the first stone.
A selfishness
that lives in our bones.
A selfishness
that makes the man dream
of sitting on a throne.
Down into the bones…
Down into the bones…
I am not a saint.
I am not a saint.
I am not a saint.
There is no joy
in pointing out the sins
of you and me,
but,
it is a good place to begin,
then we can start to learn
how to clean our lens,
that we see each other through.
-C.H.
Comments