My Kind of Nightmare

Because of the sounds of dead fireflies
Nesting in my pillow
Reaping revenge for their summertime murders,
I find it hard to fall asleep
The kind of disturbia replaying in my mind
Is no song I can just turn off
So I pray sometimes
Hoping to put the noise to rest
But I’m afraid that will break the pact
I made with the devil in third grade
While sucking on david’s blow pop
Which stained my white shirt
With a substance equivalent to beetle juice
Then my hands get sticky
From old cobwebs left from spiders
Crawling out of the skeletons in my closet
Panting up the steps is my dog
Who throws me a bone
And I realize
No one dies in their nightmares
It will all be over soon
So I dive under the covers
With a smile on my face