At night when you’re nestled under covers and pillow and hair have wed,

And the lights turned out and the drying husk of waking time is shed,

Do you feel the cold, tingling sense of inexplicable dread?

Well, you’ve not known fear until you’ve met He Who Lives Under Your Bed!

His mouth agleam with fangs designed to mutilate and shred,

His tentacles gorilla strong or so it has been said,

And His hunger is eternal; He is never fully fed,

Or so say scholars writing of He Who Lives Under Your Bed.

You can’t hide in the shadows for His eyes are infrared.

You’ll scream, He’ll have you seconds after your cries have fled.

Don’t bother trying to kill Him for He is already dead.

You’re doomed if you encounter He Who Lives Under Your Bed.

No one knows what evil thoughts lurk in His steel trap head.

Some claim He is misunderstood but they have been misled.

He’s not a sad orphaned boy who misses His boyhood sled.

His eyes betray no feeling, peer too far and goose bumps spread.

His gaze is hypnotizing and His scent is moldy bread.

And now you’ve moved too close and there’s no further you can tread

Your sad, short life will flash before your eyes once you have read

‘Tis I! I am the dreaded He Who Lives Under Your Bed!

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