Beneath my bed, I stare without glee,
Something is under there and I think it's a 'He',
He chuckles and sputters and scrapes,
But when mum and dad come to inspect, He disappears without a trace,
Someone come help me, I think it's watching,
Someone believe me, I'm going to start crying,
He's there, I just know it,
But every chance I get, I blow it,
To get rid of the monster under my bed
The monster that wants me dead
With my faith in my abilities as a practiced author, I shall, nevertheless, keep my hopeful gaze on the morrow when I, too, shall write and finish what was written. I bid thee all fair well, and fair warning for those who have become victims due to the sights of what was written in my tongue, by my hand.
Living with liberty was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to give us opportunities to grow and progress, and it takes a long time for a sapling to become a tree.