I wonder if
when monsters go to bed at night,
they ask their parents to double-check for humans
under their beds and behind their closet doors;
because they’ve heard stories about a world where
men storm into movie theatres carrying nothing but a gun and a broken heart or a blind grudge
and where women confuse dumpsters for bassinets, as they lay their newborn infants down
alongside any trace of compassion left in their bodies.
Stories in which
liars live in mansions and honest men die in the streets.
I wonder if we’re the true monsters.