Squeaking in my wardrobe a moment from my head
Awake startled all ideas of slumbers quite dead
He wakes too and grabs a broom for attacking
I stand at the door in the electric light lacking
Quite lacking the wish to face the rats in my life
Lacking in my wakeful state the spirit to attack
The mosquitoes now sucking my legs and back
Noises crescendo as the broom is beating
I stand and look at a nest of new borns shrieking,
then shrieking no more... and now less rats in my life
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