The Monster in the Closet

There's a monster in the closet,
I don't quite know what to do.
I can hear it belching, sniffling, snoring.
I think it is by my shoes.

There's a monster in the closet,
I've seen it, it's green and black
and slimey blue,
it's got bulging eyes and crooked teeth,
it smells bad, too.

How did it get there, I wonder.
I hear its belly grumble,
so I feed it twice a day
and hear it slurp the water
I put there before noon.

Sometimes, I hear it laugh.
Sometimes I hear it cry.

In the winter I make sure
it has a blanket and a pillow, too.
It is sure to get bored,
so I sneak it toys, balls and story books.

I thought of chasing it away one time,
but it is a dark, cold world out there,
and what is a monster to do?
I hate to hurt its feelings,
even though it scares me to a shiver.

There's a monster in the closet,
and I've seen it watch the stars
at night, and sigh.
Perhaps it's got a home somewhere
and misses those it loves.

There's a monster in the closet,
don't disturb it, it is sleeping now.
I will keep it, I know,
for a very long time,
because that monster up close
looks a lot like you and I.

Trudi Ralston
April 14th, 2012.

I wrote The Monster in the Closet as a humorous, and also, somewhat sad reminder,
that we all are tainted by life's experiences, and that those we love are only flawed as badly
as we turn out to be.