Evil Rat Hamster

The squeaking
The infernal squeaking
Never stopping
Never starting
Just always seeming as if it was

The half rat hamster ran
Never getting anywhere
And not caring either
Gripped by madness
Gripped by purpose
Who can tell
Yet running
As if from the depths of hell

His eye glints redly
Whenever I look in on him
I don't know when he eats
Nor when he takes time to sleep
He's always on the move
Grinding away at his wheel's bearings
Made of plastic
And turning to dust
Coating everything around his cage
With a fine white powder
Like a sculptor carving a bust

I'm not impressed let me tell you
When I'm awakened at three in the morning
By the high pitched squealing
Of his exercise ball a'rolling

His demonic purpose glares
From his one good eye
The other gouged out
In battle with his cellmate
For dominance of the wheel
Fought with claw and tooth
Rather than hard cold steel

If he were human
I imagine he'd wear a patch
Have a fluffy kitty on his lap
Which he would stroke
As he monologued his terrible plan
But he's a rat hamster
So he does what he can

Which is run upon his wheel
Wearing it to a nub
What happens when he finally destroys it
That's what keeps me up at night

That and the damned squeaking

Always squeaking
Never stopping
Always seeking
What
I hope I never know