I was scared of the monsters under my bed.

Invisible entities that wanted me dead.

Blood drinking vampires ,

Brain eating zombies,

Flesh eating ghouls,

The devil who'll take our souls.

But the devil is real. 

He's not a little red man with horns.

He's made of flesh and bones.

The monsters walk among us, 

Masquerading as the rest of us. 

Uncles, fathers, brothers, teachers, or the guy who fixes your sinks.

They don't write their sins on their skins.

The monsters weren't under my bed,

They aren't in my head.

They say the devil's beautiful.

That he used to be God's favourite angel.

But my monster wasn't beautiful.

He wasn't Lucifer at all.

He was human, with a beating heart.

But he didn't need to be taken apart.

He showed me the monster under his skin,

Willingly showed me the depraved evil within.

I didn't want to see his cruelty.

I believed in his humanity.

But he never gave me the privilege of choosing.

All he was interested in was my suffering.

But that's why you don't make deals with the devil. 

You don't let him sink his teeth in, poison you with evil.

And if you fall victim to his wickedness like I have...

May the lord have mercy on thee.

— LénaCs