Much More than Monsters

From deep within their dens of sin, they lurk in wait and watch.
No swirling mists, or demon’s hiss, they seek another notch
upon their belt–so sly and svelte–they creep around with ease.
Insatiable, deep-seeded needs they can't seem to appease.

 
They wear a smile, though all the while, their hearts are full of hate.
Perhaps a treat, a sticky sweet—oh, wouldn’t that taste great?
They’ll lure you in then soon begin to show you their true face.
You’ll try to run; once they’ve begun, you’re trapped in their embrace.

 
Deceptive guise donned to surprise their unsuspecting prize.
That “thing” they do repulses you—you slowly close your eyes.
You'll scream inside, you'll try to hide—but all to no avail.
Foul, fetid breath– you'll pray for death–you feel that you’re in hell.

 
Upon the earth, for what it’s worth, real monsters do exist.
No fangs or claws, their cruel faux pas still cannot be dismissed.
Not werewolf beasts or zombie feasts, their acts are much more vile.
The foulest fiend you've ever seen, the monster—pedophile.