Mommy, My Eye by J. S. Lawhead

Mommy -

You said I'd have two eyes.

Today I have nine.

Two in my head.

Four in my hands.

And three where the sun don't shine.

Mommy -

I just grew a few more.

They hurt something awful.

They break through the bone,

they break through my skin,

and land right on top of my waffles.

Mommy -

I'm getting more and more.

The pain is getting so much worse!

I hear little voices,

they laugh at me when I cry,

they say I'm going to rot in a hearse.

Mommy -

My new eyes are starting to see things

that my other eyes can't see.

I see things that look like little children

who died in a hospital fire.

They say they've come for me.

Mommy -

My eye!

why aren't you doing anything?

Wh...

You're not my Mommy!

Help!