He crawls along my ceiling.
A little kid, knowing no feeling.
Just the light and quick sound of his hands and knees hitting the roof.
But for others to believe me, I need proof.
He comes from my closet, even if it's closed.
I used to think "I'm just seeing things!" That's what I supposed.
Till I started to see him in the day light.
I used to only see him at night.
I fear going to bed, because of him.
If he see's me, my fate might be grim.
If he touches me, he might win.
I can't let him touch me, for I consider it a sin.
The last night comes, under my covers I lay.
I sit there waiting, hoping for it to turn day.
When my cover is yanked from me.
I look up, the boy is staring at me with glee.
He reaches to touch me, but I can't move.
It's as if he has something to prove.
His spider-like fingers, grace my forehead.
I feel chest compressions, and a person muttering "please don't be dead!"
I wake up on a highway.
A motorcycle crash I was in, led my mind astray.
I get up, somehow without injury.
Drive home, in a bit if a fury.
Night falls.
The curtain dralls.
My mind sent reeling.
As I hear hands and knees against my ceiling.
