Sometimes in the nighttime of my room
I see things
like shadows across the floor and
shapes against the wall
Sometimes they are scary
sometimes they are not
Sometimes they aren't real
sometimes they are
But I know if I hide
in my bed, under covers
and remain still and quiet
that they can't attack me
until morning light comes
and they disintegrate into the floor
waiting until the nighttime
to exact revenge
YOU ARE READING
Cacoethes Scribendi
PoetryA collection of poems, new and old. My first collection of poetry.
