The Bogeyman is Real
Night after night
he creeps into her room
puts his finger to his lips
Shhhhhh.
Night after night
he crawls into her bed
pulls her close
Relax. Pretend it’s a lollie pop.
Night after night
she imagines herself a bird.
He holds a pillow to her face.
She’s dragged back to her body
struggles for air.
Remember, he whispers,
I can kill you any time I want.
He watches her tremble
swaggers to the door
puts his finger to his lips
Shhhhhh.
Photo by Caroline Hernandez on Unsplash
I Walk with a Limp 
Powerful poem. It took me back a bit but I felt so connected to each word written. Thanks
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Thank you for your supportive comments. It’s difficult for me to post my poetry. My poems are very personal to me. Writing them helps me process the trauma. I always feel that they’re “not good enough” as far as poems go,
So glad we found each other. I look forward to visiting your page and reading your posts – just need to set aside some quiet time to do so.
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I’m sorry that any of us have gone through these things. I admire your knack for writing. And I appreciate reading what you share. A year ago there were things I couldn’t imagine other people could understand. Between yourself and a few others online, I realize I was wrong. Ty for sharing. ❤
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Thank you for your kind comments. That’s why I created my blog – to connect survivors to one another in a community of support, sharing, and understanding. You are not alone, and never will be.
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Beautiful… thank you ❤️
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