It strolls through the streets,
It looms in your closet,
It sleeps under the bed at night.

Your dad looked under your bed,
Your mom looked in the closet.
They say there’s nothing there,
It’ll be alright, its all in your head.

They turned out the lights,
And said goodnight.
You fell asleep thinking it was alright.

But it strolls through the streets,
On long midnight walks.
It looms in your closet,
And it sleeps under your bed.

And now it lingers over you,
As you drift away,
Your thoughts turn to dreams,
And it’s not all what it seems.

by Vi Lanflagle

Other poems of LANFLAGLE (127)

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