It’s hard to ponder, hopeful days turned to fearful nights

Fears created by childish fantasies from stories told by those most trusted

What goes bump in the night is a reprieve, when real monsters stand before you

A childhood guarding doors from those who break the world

Littles protecting littles with plushy camouflage, silly to reminisce

Unseen innocence concealed under the refuge of best of friends

Hidden is the truth, right infront of everyone’s eyes

Left to the wolves who devour sanctuaries, spitting out the bones

Ghosts do not haunt, but are always a welcomed besiege during times of personal trials

Carried over from juvenility paving the future with doubt

Yet, here is the narrative of real monsters stalking not just the blackest of nights

But also the brightest of vulnerable days