A winter's night, a child grows wary.
Shadows, sounds, things so scary.
Underneath the covers hides the boy.
What was it that moved that toy?
When fear flows through the mind
everything is terrible, nothing is kind.
Underneath the covers, the boy grows hot
but peek our from under he dares not.
He would turn on the light,
he could make it bright,
but terror grips him too tight;
he is stuck in the trauma of the night.
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