Excuse me? Are you a mouse? Why are you squeaking You should be sleeping
My little mouse What worries you so Is it the monster under your bed? Or the thoughts that cloud your head
A poem I wrote a while back for my little brother.
The first half of the poem was something I said to him right on the top of my head, while trying to put him to sleep and he's making all these cute noises because he doesn't want to sleep.
But after he slept. And the silence fell, the heaviness of what is also fell. And that's the second half.