A

Nightmares.

Monster's are not a pigment of our imagination. I know that if I sleep with the light's on that darkness won't overcome the dense room.
I'm swift and know that the thing under my bed waiting to grab my ankle isn't real.
I know that.
I also know that if I'm careful too keep my bed under the cover's, then it will never be able to grab my ankle.

The little boy inside the mirror is only a dream. His missing eye sockets are missing leaving thick black mold in his socket's. Thousands of maggot's squirmed inside his injured rib-cage. I'm just paranoid he's nonexistent.

He's not real.
He's not real.

~Yours truly,