Don't rely on the bogeyman
to frighten you into stillness.
He is only a shape carved
from the edges of your doubt,
a shadow cast by stories
meant to keep you from wandering.

The fear is real-
but not the face you gave it.
It waits not under your bed,
but in the corners of your certainty,
where questions curl like smoke.

You built him
with the bricks of warnings,
fed him with your silence.

He is loud because you are quiet.
He stands because you kneel.
But he cannot walk
unless you carry him.