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  • There is a body underneath my father's bed.
    I do not know who put it there.
    I heard a sound the other day and glanced there underneath.
    I think I saw its teeth
    in its head.

    I noticed that my father's eyes look very strange,
    and that his face is not the same.
    He doesn’t speak much anymore, he only grunts and stares,
    and then goes back upstairs.
    every day.

    I do not like to go into my father’s room.
    I never know what'll be in there.
    Sometimes i think I’ll glance inside, and see the body dancing,
    on the bed, it's standing
    in the gloom.

    I dream at night the body comes and walks around,
    and its eyes are spinning in its head.
    It moves like it’s got words to say, and its arms are limp and swaying
    with words it isn’t saying
    without sound

    My father’s room is dusty, and its wood is bare.
    The windows always shuttered closed.
    It’s very old and scratchy and I’m not allowed at dark
    to come inside at all,
    up in there

    My father wobbles when he walks and tilts his head.
    His door is always locked and closed.
    Today i saw him talk a bit, and saw his yellow teeth
    looked like the body underneath
    my father's bed

    I wonder with things left unsaid,
    if father sleeps beneath his bed.

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    • As I said earlier, I dig the imagery of the body most of all. I’m not sure about rhythm too much, seeing as I havent written a lot of poetry myself recently, but as it stands I think its decent

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    • A FANDOM user
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