Dark Nights
The darkness of a moonless, starless night
when crawlies writhe beneath your bed despite
your prayers, mother’s kiss, and you recite;
monsters are not real; I’ll be alright;
they come; the creepies come without invite.
You hear them moving, though they’re out of sight.
Stay still. Don’t move. And go away, they might.
And so you lay, wet sheets, till morning light.
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