Those Things You Call A Poem

Childhood monsters

Or are they?

I woke up screaming

but now I wish I was still dreaming

I just knew he was under the bed

in which I am restricted

they tell me he isn't real

but the taints say otherwise

He waits until midnight is nigh

then creeps closer

Closer, and closer

breaths beside my ear

"You aren't real, you aren't real "
A chant to keep me sane

his laugh caresses my skin

Icy coldness after it

Hands grip me down so I can't move

then he began their torture

It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS!

I beg him to stop

I beg the others too

" Scream " he says

And so I do

I screamed and scream

Until my throat is sore

Until the last of my breath bleeds away

then finally my parents would come

but they were too late

Always too late

Always too ignorant

Always, as always

with one last squeeze of my throat

They let go

Leaving me in the bed

But not alone, never alone

They were gone, until the sun sets

And another round of nightmares began.