Literary Magazine

Creeping, crawling, cover your toes;
Or he will come get you, your most frightening foe.
He lurks for years, getting closer and closer,
And soon you realize your years of fun are almost over.

He feeds on the tremors of your fright,
Growing stronger and stronger with each stifled cry,
A phantom lurking in the dusky gloom,
As innocence withers, consumed by doom.

Every year he grows stronger, inching out from under your bed,
And suddenly the worries burst throughout your head.
He slowly crawls towards you, you pull your feet in,
But before you know it, his claws are deep in your skin.

You scream and you kick and you call for your mother,
And you realize a fear that is like no other.
For when you age, you must face the truth,
The monster under your bed is your fleeting youth.