The slamming door interrupts the stoney silence,
A pitter patter of little feet commence.
6 feet all barefoot run up and down...
they exert their independece.
Their curls wrap around their ears,
They push them away from their face.
They smile and laugh and play; it is morning.

As night falls a daunting task lays before them
They each tend their demons well.
The covers lay over their eyes..
Eyes that stare into the blackness of the room...
And portrey mortal fear.

The night air is cold and still,
Silence fills the room with maddness.
They can now hear the beckoning call of the monster..
She can sense his presence. She can smell his excitement, and she dry heaves at the thought.
So small and yet she is grown beyond her years.
They all are.

The tears are dry and stain the covers...
From many nights of conquest.
There is no point in fighting him off.
There is no point in crying in the night.
No one hears.
No one responds.
No one cares.