allegedly,   Fairies collect teeth and fly away into the night
Santa delivers what we like, reindeers with his flight.
Children see the dusk with monsters with two heads,
but sometimes it's better - take Christmas.

The shadows resemble monsters, underneath your bed
scratching, clawing, cutting but its all in your head.

An adolescent sees a monster in the rules that govern them,
they seem quite oblivious, and so those they condemn.
Monsters are the people who have axes and chainsaws,
although they are real, they're not common -
not at all.

The world seems to not fit the unconventional, that is you.
but all the dreams you have, will they eventually be true?

An adult has seen monsters, but now sees them in their life,
the mortgage is piling in a job they never actually liked.
Loans pile upon a desk, no fantasy nor fun.
they love their kids? but faster they would run.

looks are fading past your mind and all the dreams you had -
They are buried in the brain, in the deepest part, upon reflection. it is sad.

Elderly know monsters, and all the deepest strains,
but only one thing can end these old and newer pains,
death looms around them hugging them so tightly.

You greet it like a friend, but you still reflect upon -
The absence of a prince,
The absence of a crown.

The yellow light that permeates from the duller bulb,
is not as hot as blue but hotter than the black.
the colour of the flame they give, it will always burn,
colder than the ice, is how they always turn.

But revenge they say is best served cold,
I would have to disagree,
scorching, sweltering, blazing is the best it seems to me.
Cold you can escape and submit with tranquility,
where burns will burn right through their cruelest soul.
no time for civility.

The morning light is creeping unto my window sill,
it was warm and sweet, but agony in its rising from the ground.
summer doesn't stain me any shade of pink,
I remain a pallid white of cadaverousness.

the birds sing their birdsong to any ear that listens,
but as the flowers fall from trees, ears a lended elsewhere.
towards the monetary dictator, a tyrant in its blood,
we disregard the flowers our snow it comes as floods.

the birth of warmth it boils, swelters in God's midst,
a year is marked, and death - will give their graceful Kiss.