Under my bed

They're here again
These things under my bed
The things my parents told me
Was only in my head

I can hear them
Crawling and scratching demanding to be fed
These awful things under my bed

They get louder and louder
Until I scream out, but only in my head
"Who are you and what do you want
Please I cant stand you being under my bed".

Hoping the question was rhetorical
To my horror I get an answer instead
The reply came in high pitched breezy voice that
was not alive, cold and dead

"We are eternal child...we are the corruptors of the flesh
We are the eaters of the dead
And we are waiting for you to join us,
Us horrible creatures under your bed"

So with an involuntary nod of my head
I reach out and drop my hand over the side of my bed
A green and black mottled hand reaches back
With a cold sickly jerk
I was brought home to this land of the dead
And the things under my bed.