The dirty clothes
On the floor
Sometimes, someone will be undere there
A monster.
It rises, seven feet tall
It heads towards you
You trip and fall in fear
You try to scream, but you can't.
Lost all control of your body
Lost your voice too
Before it touches you, it vanishes
You gain control back.
"What just happened?"
You think. You wonder.
"Why did that happen?"
You think. You wonder.
Now, kids, pick up your clothes
Or the man will come to get you
Soon
He will.
By - Rosalee Heart Stanford
Oringal poem by Rosalee
YOU ARE READING
Some poems <3
PoetryAll of these poems are made by me, Rosalee Stanford, please do not say it is your own poems.
