When the monster in my closet
Tried to ask for help
Who was I to turn it down
Into the darkness with tender fingers
Contacting flesh and a warm tremble
And a reluctance to come out
I urged and commanded
And I asked what was wrong
Though I received no answer
Every night was another struggle
And I could feel that
The monster wasn't so scary
So I helped as best I could
Leaving a pillow
Or just asking to know the creature
Only met with silence
Until one day I grew tired of never seeing
The problem that must be right there
And so I turned on the light to discover
There was never a monster but
He was only afraid of the dark too
YOU ARE READING
The Poetry Collection [Editing]
PoetryA soulful recollection and philosophies on life from a young, femme, punk poet. Poems ranging from when I was still in school, moving out, exploring the world for the first time, moving through the years, until now, being an independent artist and b...
![The Poetry Collection [Editing]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/321488662-64-k329205.jpg)