Papa, I am scared!

Mama, I am hiding. Papa, I am scared.
The thing that lives beneath my bed
Looked out at me and glared.

Tucked beneath my blankets, I cover up my head
For if it cannot see me here
It cannot make me dead.

Though fearful, I am quiet, so that it will not hear
A tender tasty little boy
And will not know my fear.

It must feel me shiver, for I can sense its joy
At having a delicious meal
To munch on and enjoy.

I hold my breath in terror, for now I know I feel
A breathy snuffle at my toes,
A nibble at my heel.

Crawling up my leg now, chortling as it goes!
I cover up my private bits.
It will not gobble those!

With prickly claws it scrambles and on my belly sits.
I feel a stabbing, biting pain
That nearly gives me fits.

Torment in my tummy, panic in my brain,
The thing that lives beneath my bed
Has bitten through a vein!

Mama, I am bleeding! Papa, I am dead!
Is that warm wetness really blood--
.
.
.
.
Or have I wet the bed?


Prompt and Notes ▼

"Horror Writing Contest" 
For this writing contest write a NEW rhyming poem of at least 10 lines and 60 words.
PROMPT: Just make it a scary poem.

Entry is 27 lines, about 190 words
Definitely tells a story, and scary up to a point....