All night he tosses and he turns,
The boy with tear stains on his face,
The sulking boy who never learns,
The spiteful boy who runs in place.
Imagination takes its toll
On an impressionable young mind,
Puts something foul in the soul
And leaves him to his fears resigned.
But someday he will realize
The horrors live inside his brain;
When he is stronger and more wise,
From darkness he’ll learn to abstain.
He’s scowling at the ceiling now
With poison thoughts inside his head.
One night he’ll learn to sleep somehow.
For now he wishes he was dead.