The monsters aren't in the closet.
The monsters are outside.
When we grew up we realized
That in there's where we should hide.
They chased us in here with their knives
And framed us for our "crimes".
They point and say, "Beware the closet!
Monsters are inside!"
I hear them talk about "my kind"
Through cracks between the door.
All I ask is for respect,
How could I ask for more?
The hateful glares, those judging looks
And all the dreadful things
Assault my waking moments
and stalk me in my dreams.
I shake and shiver, whimper and stir,
Safe inside my closet.
But safeness seems so temporary
when outside foes appall it.
Spoilers for "The Angels Take Manhattan"
The days and nights in the TARDIS following the Ponds' departure were slow. The hours seemed forever endless; time ticked too slowly. Soon, everything became blurred. They had to keep moving on, keep walking, keep running, the two of them. The Doctor and River Song, never stopping long enough.
River stayed with the Doctor for a few weeks, holed up in a room somewhere in the back reaches of the TARDIS, typing away at Melody Malone. The tears fell freely as she neared the end of the book. The pain was still fresh in her mind and in her heart. She cried, but silently.
And every time she deci