Every night I would scream,
wishing it was just a dream.
He comes into my room,
with a broom.
He hit me with it,
he just will not quit.
Throws me on the bed,
wish I was dead.
He pulls out the scary thing;
I already know it will sting.
Trying to stifle my cries,
but the tears rolled down my eyes.
When he finally finished,
my body felt diminished.
Every night was the same;
it felt like a sick game.
I got a knife,
and ended my life.
Now I am free,
from the boogeyman.
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