"There is something under my bed and that's not a monster", I tell myself.
But deep inside my heart knows that's sarcasm.
"The bed tremors", I yell
But It's my body, my heart knows.
I pull myself together and look under the bed.
I see something, uncertainty, that's a terrible monster.
"Who sent the monster here", I whisper.
It turns into a mirror and finally I see the monster crystal clear.
We see what we are, don't we?
The monster was never under the bed.
The mind knows what we are and heart makes us feel it.
And mine tells me I'm the monster and the heart makes me feel the cowardness.
I step down and crawl myself under the bed.
That's where cowards are supposed to dwell.