A whimper at her window,
but no face to be shown;
closet cast reminds her
there’s nowhere to go,
releasing a flash of indigo.

A scratch from underneath,
the cry of the beast;
screams from a demon silhouette,
agony from a possessed statuette,
thinking of anything to forget
the burning of the cigarette.

Wishing for a life
of vampires and werewolves,
she conspires a world
lacking ripped attires;
no more human monsters
and beauty inquires.

She dreams of painless entrails,
creating cognitive fairy tales
where she keeps her wishes
in a cracked plastic jar,
while Mommy has fun at the bar
and Daddy does things of the bizarre,
she wipes away tears from a burnt cigar.