´óÏó´«Ã½

A problem shared
is a problem halved...
but it's still a problem
and I've got hundreds of them
neatly placed in shoe boxes
alphabetically sorted and stacked
into the alcoves of my room
just like mummy asked.

I'd like to leave them someday
but I haven't left the house in years
and I'm scared of the troll that mum said guards the gate
not to mention the crocodiles that hide in suits
biting your head off in a vague attempt
in selling you the clothes off your back.

I'm glad of the stories she told me as a child
where there is no happily ever after
and everyone gets their turn to die.

I still haven't left the house;
There's a monster under my bed,
mummy says it will eat me if I ever try to leave.