The monster wants to eat me
But I don’t want to die.
I’m sure I don’t taste good
Even toasted on rye

The monster likes to scare me
He does it every night
It jumps out of my closet
And gives me such a fright

I told my mom about it
She told me not to worry.
“There’s no monster in your closet
That eats people with curry.”

I told her she was wrong
And the monster is quite real
Its skin is soft and leathery
And feels just like a seal

I walked her to my closet
To show my mom the beast.
She looked inside and laughed
“There’s no monster, to say the least.”

“Mom, what do you mean?
I see it every day.
It likes to make fun of me
And it makes me its prey.”

“Just look closer at the monster
And I’m sure you will find
Your imagination is wild
And leaves you quite blind.”

I stepped inside my closet
And looked for the thing
I found my green jacket
That is covered in bling

I felt very silly
For it was just my jacket
No wonder it never moves
When I create a loud racket

(I wrote this poem in English class)