The Demon

I am the demon
Hiding under your bed,
Awaiting nightfall,
In hopes to be fed.

My claws they are long,
And my teeth are so sharp,
While my eyes are like diamonds,
And black is my heart.

Your mother says that I am not real,
That I'm just in your head!
And could never be true,
But now she's dead!

I wait,
And I hide,
For just the right time,
So clever, so snide!



I sit in the closet,
And dream of the day,
When you no longer fear me or
What could happen today.

And when you open the door,
You'll cry
As I rise,
And ask if you really want to die.

I can't help myself
I do try
But I'm just so hungry inside,
Don't ask me why.



I do love the taste,
And simply the smell,
Of tender young flesh ripped
All to hell.

Your screams and your cries
Give me such delight,
As you struggle and squirm
To live tonight.

I cackle
You shriek,
I beg for more
Since your death is sweet.

I brush your hair so gently
Away
And kiss your forehead,
Thankful for my stay.



I gobble you up,
I gulp
And I slurp,
Until all that's left, is bloodied pulp.

I am the demon who sits on your bed,
Plucking and pulling all hairs from your head,
Dreaming and wishing again to be fed,
Such a shame, you're all dead.