Poets logo
Content warning
This story may contain sensitive material or discuss topics that some readers may find distressing. Reader discretion is advised. The views and opinions expressed in this story are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Vocal.

Where Did Your Monsters Hide

In the darkest corners, under the bed or freely roaming at will

By Colleen Millsteed Published about a year ago 1 min read
Image courtesy of Pixabay

There are childhoods, and then there are childhoods,

And a million different degrees in between,

Forging future generations one child at a time,

Raising the world’s building blocks through the years.

****

Some waltz through their younger years on unicorns and trains,

Sleeping within smiles and strong arms,

Happiness follows within their wake,

And family is the backbone of the person they become.

****

Some were raised in nightmares of anger and cruel words,

Drunken rage and screaming fits,

Broken dishes, bruised thighs and sleepless nights,

To become survivors to the ninth degree.

****

Their monsters weren’t hidden under the bed or tucked into dark corners,

No, they walked the halls, slept in the adjacent bedroom,

Dined at the dining table and watched TV,

Nothing outside their preview.

****

They cooked us dinner, brushed our hair,

Watched our every move, our every word,

We tried to become invisible, a part of the furniture,

Avoided being the centre of attention.

****

We grew to become the strength that we needed,

Totally self-sufficient, independent,

Wary of other humans, insecure and lacking trust,

Because we were taught it’s a tough old world.

****

Day to day took on a life of its own,

Constantly in survival mode, no rest for the wicked,

Forever haunted by ghosts of the past,

While holding on tight to the last of our sanity.

****

Some dispel their childhood monsters like a shed skin,

Leaving them where they belong; in their younger years,

Whereby others carry those monsters within their mind,

Forever tormented by their words running on repeat over and over again.

Familyheartbreak

About the Creator

Colleen Millsteed

My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insight

  1. Expert insights and opinions

    Arguments were carefully researched and presented

Add your insights

Comments (4)

Sign in to comment
  • Dharrsheena Raja Segarranabout a year ago

    It's so heartbreaking that this is still happening everywhere. People gotta stop having children if they cannot provide a good childhood/life for them!

  • Cathy holmesabout a year ago

    That is powerful, yet so sad. No child should suffer. Well done, my friend.

  • Daphsamabout a year ago

    Bravo!

  • Marie381Uk about a year ago

    I love this

Find us on social media

Miscellaneous links

  • Explore
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy
  • Terms of Use
  • Support

© 2026 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.