As children we fear the monsters under our bed just to grow up and to
realize that there are no monsters under our beds but across the hall,
down the street. Everywhere.
We grow up and see how cruel humans
are. we fear going out alone as if there are clawed beings out there.
But the real monster is the man smoking a cigarette following our trail with a
jagged toothed smirk. A key grasped ever so tightly in between your
finger's. Your hands shaking fast.
fear so intense you can feel in in your
throat as if a snake had slithered its way down your gullet.
monsters
are not hideous creatures who linger in the dark.
The real monsters are
disguised with a friendly smile only to turn into a vicious smirk when alone
©oliver.l.b
O