.
No shape or form
Has the monster under the bed,
Both light and shadow it has shed;
Never quite here, never quite there,
Never quite seen, as thin as air,
Yet there is something in the dark,
There must be, there has to;
A haunting ghost or a clown-shark
Watching me – it is true,
Waiting and biding time, soundlessly.
Because if it is not, if it is a lie,
If it is not there or if it has gone,
If it has never been, essentially, sly,
Then I am mad or a fool, boundlessly…
And strangely I would rather believe
This odd, scary story that I weave
Rather than there be none
To keep me warm.
.
When there’s something strange
In the neighbourhood…
who?
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