Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These Poem by Rylan Ollivier

The monster was chasing me, deep within the forest
With the sound of Haitian drum corps pounding all around us.
The snarnling teeth were dipped in plaque, stained with hues of yellow
With several miles i'd run so far, my legs felt like jello
I climbed up a tree to escape the ferocious beast
And not become its dinner
Branch by branch i climbed my way as if a world class sprinter
My legs were sore, my arms were burning
And my lungs were ready to burst.
I realized that if I quit this fight, my death would be the worst.
His claws grabbed my back and pulled me down
Stuffing me into his muzzle.
His intestines were complex, with twists and turns
Almost like a great big puzzle.
I sprang from my bunk with a bump on my head
And pulling my sheets from my bed
I wasn't a hero like in all the stories, but at least the poor monster got fed.