Creaky stairs, voices in the dark.
So many monsters I don’t know where to start.
Ghosts in your head, wishing you were dead.
All monsters are our own creation.
Our worries and fears are given sheets.
Ridding them would be a feat
Glowing eyes, making little ones cry,
Hiding, begging for dawn to come.
Knowing that for when it comes,
The darkness is gone,
Till the voices return.
So many monsters I don’t know where to start.
Ghosts in your head, wishing you were dead.
All monsters are our own creation.
Our worries and fears are given sheets.
Ridding them would be a feat
Glowing eyes, making little ones cry,
Hiding, begging for dawn to come.
Knowing that for when it comes,
The darkness is gone,
Till the voices return.
- Estelle's blog
- Sprout
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