3:00 A.M
My room is a bombshell
A bloody mouse in it.
Been chased after it fell
But now no sign of it.
Another hour to wait.
Been twenty already.
And I got nothing to do but write a poem, call it fate.
No clue has Freddy
Looking at me for help.
I don't know.
And I feel like going whelp
And go to bed.
But bloody room is a bombshell
And I'm here writing thus crappy poem.