Monster

There's a monster under my bed,
Big-headed, soft as his ego,
His hands not but tentacles,
(Like that of an octopus)
Wrapped around me
So I don't leave for ground;
If I have to have something,
He takes my hand by it
And gets if he thinks, "yes".
I am his favourite puppet.
Handled with extra care,
Have to smile through,
I wish, pray and hope
He isn't in pain.

I run, run, run,
I never reach,
I un-nerve myself
After every sigh drowns dead,
Drawing a map of my entries and escape.
(I hear footsteps pushing in my trespasses)
One, two, three, four, five, six.
I count my breath.
Calming my shaking hands,
I lay my love rest.
I understand.
He is in pain, but so am I.
Did he ran for me,
When I ran around?
It's fine but, I understand...
He is in pain, and so am I.
So am I.