Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2019
every time i put my pencil
to this paper i am reminded
that talking about the monsters
under my bed only elicits a quick light switch flip, a quick glance under the now dimly lit bed frame only to hear,
“there’s surely nothing there”
don’t they realize these creatures do their ***** work with the lights off?
how am i to scream for help if they keep turning the lights on
Written by
k  21/F/Pennsylvania
(21/F/Pennsylvania)   
163
   Imran Islam
Please log in to view and add comments on poems