The man in the cupboard,
He always has his eyes on me.
His grip and stare,
Emerge from the darkness within.
The glint in his eyes,
As he steps from the depth of blackness.
Unable to wait,
It's time he had his say again.
Perpetually,
This is the way it must be.
His power over me,
A construct of the attractor between my bed and his,
Binding my being to him.
The longer this goes on,
It slowly starts to sink in.
I am the man in the cupboard,
It's a battle I will never win.