Monster

Monster

I was killed at the age of five,
How? I was buried alive
Since then I became everyone's nightmare
Don't ask me why
it's just my job.

Children call me the "it" or "thing"
Because they see me in their dreams
They'll sometimes hear me under their bed
and until the count of three, their dead

Children would describe me "ugly" and "hairy"
With pointy ears and teeth
so sharp that it's scary

Children say I have red eyes
and a loud roar to make them cry.

They'll describe me "evil" in their dreams
Before they get the chance
I'll eat them before they can scream
And when dinner is done
I'll be gone

When the night is over
And daylight arrives
Parents would scream with a startled cry
When they see their child is gone
It's because my job is already done.