There are monsters under my bed, I swear it’s true
If you don’t believe me take a peak, but I wouldn’t if I were you
They are more terrifying then any alien, vampire or werewolf pack
Even though they wouldn’t eat you as a snack
They don’t have three heads, green skin or multiple eyeballs
But bones can be seen through brittle orange skin and sleek hair, skyscraper tall
The heaving chest of a Grinch size heart can be seen, beating almost too slowly
Their beady bloodshot eyes stare at my pale skin, knowingly
I hear their long nails violently scraping on my floor, haunting the room in which I slumber
Those bloodshot eyes and glowing nails wish to tear me from limb to limb, with a plunger
I prevent this terrible pretense by giving them what they desire the most
Dishes of raw meat, garnished with flies, are found under my bed; since they infatuate the gross
So they will not touch a pretty little hair on my head
But, it is so that they glare with jealous revenge, under my bed
They rely on me, and I must keep them satisfied, for my safety
They have a fear of being not alluring, very desperately they rummage through food, even if it isn’t tasty
These scrawny creatures reflect a zombie, who was once radiant with beauty
Demanding statements and propelling attitudes falsify their faces, simply they are snooty.
Their beauty would entice many girls, I know
Maybe others would see the reflection of their ugly souls, and realize what their future may in toe
These creatures are after me, because I’m not like them
In this twisted universe, I am the alien