I hate to know
That you're the monster under my bed
You're the interruption
You're the crashing in my head
I hate to see you like the monster
So I run and hide
I hate to hear the the thunder
So I start to cry
I know you're the monster
I know that it true
But for some reason
I still miss you.
YOU ARE READING
•Rose Water•
PoetryA book of poetry, Improvement. And love. A hot mess of life really.
