~.:' Monsters Under My Bed ':.~

The monsters in my life arn't under my bed at all.

The monsters in my life don't slink around and crawl.

The monsters in my life stand upright.

The monsters in my life always have a drink in their hand.

The monsters in my life leave scars and shout.

They make me cry.

They pull my hair.

But not in a suttle way.

Broken glass.

Broken hearts.

Broken bones.

That monster has a name.

I call it dad.

I hate this monster.

I love this monster.

But most of all I miss the monster with no drink in his hand.