Poetry Book 2

143. Scurrying Demons

He sits and waits
He mocks me so
I know he's there
He waits till night
He runs amuck
And just my luck
He's gone when I get there
I hate that beast
The one that feasts
On food not closed up well
He eats my cereal
He eats the silicone
He'd eat my home if he could
I hate that beast
That hidden beast
I hope my hunters get him soon
That beast that lurks in the kitchen
Hidden in a hole
Scampering about
I hate that mouse
I want him out of my house