Vent

Little Monsters

Little monsters live under my bed
They dance in the night, when the world is dead

I've seen them on occasion, their care free disposition
I envy their joy, laughter and love

They whisper to me , telling me the worlds secrets
They sing, and prance, leaving trails of neon glimmer behind them

Their colors are a shade of absolute vibrancy
my eyes have never seen, I'm infatuated with their rituals and way of life.
Disappearing when the sun rises

The world looks down on them, but they care not.
The light and shine of their world is unmatched by that of the average human.
Nightfall as their pillow top, they celebrate the darkness as it is their ultimate doom.

Little monsters live under my bed
They dance in the night, when the world is dead