He was there
He likes to hide
He likes to crawl
Under your bed
Only just after midnight.
His eyes black
Bald, patchy head
He doesn't move, he weaves.
In and out
Jagged motions
Frightening doesn't describe him
Terrifying doesn't describe him
He's indescribable
No definitions
He likes nightmares,
And hates dreams,
with his clever stare,
and sewed seams...
Some may ask,
Is he real?
The only answer,
I can give
Is
Check under your bed,
Just after midnight.
