Possible sweet childhood memories,
filled with fear of the night.
Children are supposed to fear a fake monster,
not a real one.

This monster didn't hide under the bed,
and he wasn't just in my head.
He was bruises on my legs,
and a ripped up nightgown.

He was an unwanted presence,
and he was more than a nightmare.

I still feel like a child,
scared of a memory that does not fade with age.
I still can't go a night without worrying,
that the monster will return.