Under My bed Or In My Head?

What do monsters look like?

When I was six, I asked my mom with dislike.

"Monsters don't exist", she explained.

Then why do I feel so pained?

"It's all in your head,

There are no monsters under your bed"

Little does she know,

About the man who comes to my room at night.

Who holds me tight,

Till I shiver with fright. 

He doesn't let me sleep,

He beats me till I weep.

I don't like the way he touches,

I just want to get away from his clutches. 

Those memories are still clear as day in my brain,

How my plea for help went in vain.

I just wish someone could see,

How he still roams free,

After everything he did to me.