My grandpa told fairytales
with once upon a time and happily ever after.
   Where knights rescue damsel and lonesome kings
                                                                     found their queens.
Jack the beanstalk
show no fear and fairies lives near.

But my grandpa had these eyes
eyes that told horror stories.
             Where monsters don’t live under your bed but within your walls,
                ready to claw you in your sleep. 

Demons creep into your side whispering lies
tricking you into selling your soul until you're nothing more than a lifeless, still ocean.
Making you look like a fool in front of a large laughing crowd.
     Luring you into a pit of despair and bitterness, making you into
a villain from fairy tales.
Because maybe it’s easier to let in the temptation of revenge then it is to
grapple with pain of trying to let go and move on.

But you should know
   that in order to exact revenge you need to live within the walls
and get ready to become the same monster that kept you awake at night.

My Grandpa was a monster, a soulless monster.
      Until my grandma came
every melody she spoke echo beat into his chest
and by the end of the year my grandpa had a heart again
she brought him back like a whine up toy.
Telling him that he doesn't have to fight the pain
he just has to let it in
then let it out.
My Grandpa was a monster