After the Sun.

I'm not afraid of the night.
I'm afraid of the monsters
who smell of a putrid stench
and bear their blood stained teeth at my throat.

No, it never was the night,
with its shoulders heavy
as it carried the silent whispers
of ten million souls.

It was the beasts;
the ones that lurk in the darkest of corners,
who wait for you to curl into your blankets
and imagine a place safer.

But what am I supposed to do
when I finally realize
the true horror wasn't "just in my head"
but is actually the world outside of it?