When I was five, I was afraid of the monsters under my bed
That if my foot hung off the bed that something would grab it
Or if I slept with my closet open something would take me
We say we grow out of our fear of monsters
But truly this fear matures with us
It never goes away
And instead of keeping our feet on the bed we lock our doors
And instead of closing closet doors we never talk to strangers
As we venture out into the real world, so do the monsters
Monsters are things that come and do mean things
Steal us away from our loved ones
Steal our things away from us
Or take our lives
Don't kid yourself
Monsters are real
They live among us now,
The worst things in the darkest places
So please, be afraid of monsters
YOU ARE READING
Severed Silence
PoesiaPoetry~ the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts. ie. Talking about a special thing in a special way And these things are special My goal is to write at least one poe...
