Little Monster Lying in my Bed

I've got a little monster

Lying in my bed

When I turned to face him

This is what he said:

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Come with me, or

I will have your soul

Better do my biddings

Just, do as you are told

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I begged and I pleaded

Just to, please, let me live

My begging wasn't heeded

My soul, I still, had to give

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Come to me, now

I will not ask again

Look at me, now

Can't see how you will win

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I stare at the monster

Deep into his piercing eyes

He looked deep, back into mine

And swore that I would die

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Now the monster grabbed me

shoved his claw, deep into my chest

Tore my heart out, eating it

Saying, "Ooo, this is just the best."

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Enjoying his meal, my heart

Then he licked his fingertips

Cleaning every drop of blood

Of mine, from him, as I watched it drip

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He looked at me, now

With his evil grin

Through his blood-stained teeth

"You think you still can win?"

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As I swayed, then toppled

He laughed with all his might

I hit the ground, then died

From no heart, or maybe just from fright

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Here's the preface from Stephen King's novel: Four Past Midnight. A Stephen Crane poem; maybe only an excert.

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In the desert

I saw a creature, naked, beastial,

Who, squatting upon the ground,

Held his heart in his hands,

And ate of it

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I said, "Is it good, friend?"

"It is bitter---bitter," he answered;

"But I like it

Because it is bitter

And because it is my heart."

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-Stephen Crane-