The Dark


When kids are four
They leave open the door
And keep on a light near the bed
Because the dark is terrifying
And that light makes them death defying
So they can fight off the monsters under the bed

When kids are ten
They feel the need to be 'little men'
So they turn off every light in sight
They shut their eyes quickly
And count the sheep in their head
Praying that they aren't snatched by the monsters under the bed

When kids are twelve
All fear is up on a shelve
And nights are spent tapping away
No lights are on
But the room still glows
From the rows of screens
And very rarely does it seem
That they even dream
Of a monster under the bed

When kids are fourteen
Sleep is a dear friend
Who's definitions occasionally blend
With uninterrupted hours of silence
Their eyes are closed, but their brains aren't
This isn't sleep, it's thinking very deep
About monsters that escaped from under the bed

When kids are sixteen, they choose a path
Some sleep sound, no monsters around
While the rest lay awake
Going over their lives mistakes
A light on in their room
Their minds won't shut up, but at least they've solved the mystery
Of where the escaped monsters went
Not to jail, or to hell
Not into a coffin nailed, or to a train station where they said farewell
They simply made a few foot journey
From under the bed
Into their heads

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