Poisoned Poet

I don’t want to see monsters everywhere,  Every hero I trust wears the same cold stare. It’s not fair— The ones who shine, who speak of light, In the end, they vanish into night. I believe they see me, standing there, I believe they care, in whispered air. But shadows creep behind their smiles, Beneath the surface, something vile. I reach for warmth, find only frost, Each saving grace comes at a cost. The monsters I fear wear human skin, And every hero hides their sin. I close my eyes but still they crawl, The truth I fear—there are no saints at all.