It lurks under my bed.

With it's patchwork face

and flaming glass eyes.

I know it's under there,

waiting.

 

If i dared to step down

i know it would get me.

It would reach out with one of those

scaly hands it has.

It's blackened talons would cut

and i would stumble.

 

By then it would be too late.

It would be upon me in a flash,

somehow grinning through it's ragged mouth-hole.

Who knows what it would do after that?

Those that do never survive,

so i'm not going to chance it.

 

If i don't move, it might go away.

It might decide i'm not here.

It might.