Horror Poem by Charles Malcolm
Horror
There are no ghosts.
There are no monsters.
There are no omnipotent beings
and no dead relatives watching you
as you jerk yourself off.
You're afraid of the wrong things,
darling.
A tourist
with Disney dollars,
obsessed with a darkness
that would consume you
with such ease
were you ever to look at me
and admit that I exist.
Yank the duvet over your head,
darling.
I'd rather stay beneath your bed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:39:46 PM # 1.0.0.1119
beneath your bed, good one, thanks..