Flawed Portrayal

Nightmare

I hear the screams of my son,
As his room is down the hall.
These are screams of horror, certainly not of fun.

I rise, quickly and silently,
Not to wake my wife.
As I open his door, he shakes violently.

I have told him, there is nothing to fear.
He lays, in the fetal position, upon his bed.
Nightly, the same routine, I just can't bear.

He insists I look under his bed.
I decide to, for his amusement.
I crouch down, and lower my head...

There, I stare at another him.
A boy, who looks like my son.
He speaks: "Daddy, there's someone on my bed."