Knocking and knocking on my bedroom door.
It was a hurried knock I've never heard before.
Perhaps it is mother and nothing more.
And yet I don't answer the door.

The next night was the same, except there was groanin'
It was louder and louder and I had awoken.
Perhaps it was mother, though I'm sure she hadn't spoken.
And still I don't answer the door.

The next nights were quiet. I couldn't complain.
Until I heard the dreaded knocking again.
Perhaps it was mother with her horrible pain.
Her moaning and banging made there way into my brain.
I was scared, more than before.
And because of that, I didn't open the door.

It had been weeks and I still haven't slept safe and sound.
My mother would not let me with her hoarse voice and loud pounds.
I figured my room was the safest place to be around.
Opening the door would be a mistake.
I'm sure it is mother, but why would she take
Her precious time by knocking and groanin'?
Could she not get the door open?
Tired and terrified, I sat on the floor.
And stared all night at that dreadful door.

I can't take it, can't take it, can't take it no more!
She's started to scream! My ears are sore.
My eyes are heavy and I want some rest.
Could this be my mother's test?
To see how long her young boy can take in
The sounds and screams every time he'd awaken?
That's it, that's it, I'll open the door.
I'll surely go crazy if I don't, that I'm sure.
I'm so tired, more tired than before.

I'm not so scared anymore.
And because of that, I opened the door.
I'm tired of hiding from under the covers.

Oh God.

It is not my mother.