There Aren't Any Monsters

Child:
Mama, can I sleep in your room tonight?
The monsters in mine are a terrible fright.
They don’t let me sleep and they make scary sounds,
though I never have seen one, I KNOW they’re around.
Under bed, in closet, and in attic above,
scaring me nightly's the one thing they love.

Mother:
Sweet silly-goose, there is nothing to fear,
especially with mama and papa so near.
Now, listen intently, for I’ll make you see,
there's no reason that you shouldn’t sleep peacefully.

There aren't any monsters hiding under your bed,
the demons there only exist in your head.
Though monsters do sometimes come out in the night
to steal away children while tucked in bed tight.
They take them to taint them, then speed them to death,
and relish the moment they take their last breath.
But you’re safe as can be in your bedroom, alone:
as long as nobody breaks into our home.

There aren't any monsters in your closet, my sweet,
just the clothes that you wear and the shoes for your feet.
Though monsters do sometimes appear clutching books,
they scream as they judge and they throw dirty looks.
They hate to their core the once closeted people,
and pray for their end under sacrosanct steeple.
But worry not, darling, of those who spew hate:
they won't be a bother—you seem pretty straight.

There aren't any monsters in the attic, my dear,
the settling house is the noise that you hear.
Though monsters do sometimes descend from above,
destroying the people and places we love.
Whether winged from high up or sent from afar,
they rocket their malice to murder and mar.
But, as long as you stay in the U.S. of A.
and don't travel abroad, you should be okay.

So now that you see there aren’t monsters about,
I’ll tuck in you tightly and put the lights out.
Good night, my beloved—we’re right down the hall,
if somethings amiss, just give us a call.
We’ll fly to your aid, as swift as a bird,
assuming your screams through the pillow are heard.

Sweet dreams.