Monsters Go To Movies

The theater is dark, the air heavy with suspence
My muscles can't move, my whole body tense
The screen is eerily giving off a glow
The guys are on the edge
of their seats, whispering,
"Sweet!" and "Whoa!"
(even though it's not that great)

Delighted anyway with every bloody, murderous scene
that the man(?) in the ugly sweater, scarlet and green
causes with no obvious sign of remorse.
And I, enrapt in the movie, of course
Witness the horror ensuing with fright
The only girl, I play the stereotype.
Like watching a train wreck, I can't avert my vision
Hiding face-in-sweatshirt I think is a good decision
So they don't know how scared I really am.

As Freddy and Jason fight
They kill all the innocents in their plight.
It feels so real to me, as movies tend to make one think,
I can smell the disgusting, evil stink...
It gets stronger and stronger
As Freddy inches nearer and nearer
His rusty blades clanging
empty eyes getting clearer
White knuckles grip the sides of the seat
My teeth and fingernails nervously meet...

then BAM!
I jump my height in feet.
I check to see if his last victim was me.
Then laughter, I turn to my left to see.
At seeing me scared, my friends all laugh.
"She must have leaped five feet and a half!"

So next time we all rent a scary flick,
Pairs of eyes on me cause a nervous tic.
Elm Street's nightmare is not what they see,
Instead of the movie, they'd rather watch me.