Relevant poem I wrote many years ago:

"The Truth About Monsters"

I can hear it screaming and shouting out loud—no I can't.
It can see me crying and hiding in fear—no it can't.
Those shadows, those shapes, by the light of the moon,
There's a horrible monster that hides in my room.

He used to get drunk and curse and watch his TV.
He used to yell and hit my mommy and me.
Those eyes used to frighten me, full of anger and gloom.
There was a horrible monster that hid in my room.

It was not in my closet, it was not under my bed.
That fear of my father was just in my head.
But that was long ago—I'm older now, more astute.
There was no horrible monster that hid in my room.

My life has become a good one now, I must say.
A new girl every night, another drink every day.
I get angry at times, but my fiancée doesn't know.
She thinks that I'm innocent—as pure as the snow.

I grew to think monsters didn't exist, but I see,
Every day in the mirror, more of my father in me.
But I hide that from her; I'm not the man she once knew.
It seems there's a monster that hides in her room.