The Worst Monsters Are Two-Faced.

My mom said monsters were not under my bed,

Just in my head.

They aren't bad but I'd rather have some friends instead.


Growing up I saw monsters in school,

Monsters at work,

Monsters who were cool,

And monsters who were jerks.


It wasn't until I graduated that

I found the real monster.


It turns out the worst monster WAS under my bed,

In my wallet and keeping me fed.

You cannot kill this monster,

But you evade it once you're dead.

This poem is about: 
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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