Outside my door, the Monster’s lair
I wonder what he has in store
although it’s quiet, I know he’s there
outside my door
The Monster came when I was four
before that time he seemed to care
but now my father’s there no more
His anger comes out of thin air
he strikes me ’til I hit the floor
I’d run…but then…how would I fare…
outside my door?
This is, thankfully, not my story. I won’t call it fiction, though, for there are far too many for whom this story is their reality…if not in whole, at least in part. This is my second submission for the rooms prompt at dVerse. I chose to write another roundel.