deepundergroundpoetry.com
Where'd the Monsters Go.?
We stopped checking under our beds
The monsters don’t live there anymore.
Figments of diseased imagination,
Or imagination, a doorway,
To stark, terrible reality.
Don’t close the door.
They warned us.
This switch is rigged.
On is off and off is on.
We turn on the lights,
By falling into blackness,
Stepping into darkness,
Falsely eliminated.
The monsters aren’t under our beds.
We turned our backs,
They’re in our heads,
They warned us.
The monsters don’t live there anymore.
Figments of diseased imagination,
Or imagination, a doorway,
To stark, terrible reality.
Don’t close the door.
They warned us.
This switch is rigged.
On is off and off is on.
We turn on the lights,
By falling into blackness,
Stepping into darkness,
Falsely eliminated.
The monsters aren’t under our beds.
We turned our backs,
They’re in our heads,
They warned us.
Published 2nd Nov 2012
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The author encourages honest critique.
2nd Nov 2012 2:59pm
I really like this
I like the ending
because once your older the monster do move from the bed to your head
great write!
I like the ending
because once your older the monster do move from the bed to your head
great write!
5th Nov 2012 1:15am
