Monster Beneath My Bed

I don’t ever want to go to sleep;
There is a monster beneath my bed.
He hisses and taunts; he gets in my head.
I hide under blankets and weep.

Through the darkness I hear him creep.
His presence fills me up with dread.
I don’t ever want to go to sleep;
There is a monster beneath my bed.

Too terrified to make a peep,
I know the demon wants me dead.
That he’ll bleed from me a stream of red,
Just to linger there and watch it seep.
I don’t ever want to go to sleep.


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    1. Wow, thanks Laura! I have been experimenting with some French poetry forms. They do tend to focus on repetition, meter & rhyme so maybe that’s why they sound like songs. Now I just need to convince my husband to spend time working on some music for my “lyrics”. 😉


        1. Geesh, I disappeared for a week there, sorry. My husband plays bass and guitar. He taught my oldest to play guitar too. Now my son has surpassed his teacher, and has learned about a dozen other instruments as well. He certainly didn’t get it from his mother. I really wish I was more musically inclined. What do you play?


            1. Gosh, I think we’ve discussed your piano skills before. Duh, this back to school routine is sapping all of my brainpower. Piano is the one I’d learn to play if old dogs could learn new tricks. 😉

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