September 1st, 1989
All locked up in the bedroom,
The moaning and anxiety of going to school,
And the pouring of sun light into your face,
Like a stingray attaching and snatching your cheeks,
Counting the weeks
Till the next time you can sleep in,
And simply slide under the covers,
And swim through the blankets,
All stuffed, with fluff
And remnants of feathers flying in the dark,
No longer a stingray,
But the softness of a sheet,
Like a dry kiss, or a fuzzy cheek,
And getting tumbled beneath the underground world,
And sinking through the mattress,
Till you’re under your bed,
The monster’s in your head all there, staring,
And smiling, with their curved pointy horns
And their fuzzy red fur,
Wide eyed,
And surprised,
How you no longer fear them.
So you leave, and like that swim under the ocean film,
As the sun crackles above your head,
You gasp for air,
As you escape your blankets,
Taking in your messy room.
And realizing,
you have to go to school.