Growing older
Growing older
When I was young I had nightmares galore.
Dreaming ‘bout monsters and their terrifying roar.
So I cried to my mother and crawled up her lap.
Far away from my monsters suffocating trap.
She stroke my hair and soothed my mind.
Holding me in her arms, so tender and kind.
Falling asleep, heavy eyes starting to close.
With my mothers sweet perfume tickling my nose.
Only then I got older and the years passed by.
Everything changed, only my dreams didn’t die.
The monsters stayed and fucked up my mind.
I started to think I and the monsters were intertwined.
But the calming arms of my mother were gone.
Like the glow of the moon at the break of dawn.
Don’t think about it, just grow up, she’ll say.
Leaving me with a feeling of dismay.
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