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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1635911
Had a small imagining of a little evil creature inside of myself.
Ever Crawling.
Over the twisted, rock-strewn beaches.
This thing inside does nothing, it leeches.
Frail arms, clawing out, it reaches.

Never Dying.
Staring black eyes, watch me from below.
This stricken thing with bloody nubs, it flows.
No rest for me, it stretches within, it grows.

Ever Present.
Going where I go, the screams become meek.
This unshadowed thing utters words, it shrieks.
Clawing out,
Breaking skin,
Gushing blood,

It lives.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1635911-The-Pet