They say the darkest of things come from within,
The darkest of things one might call sin.
Where monsters are formed without repentance,
To feed on the living with each written sentence.
It sprung out of the room engulfed in a frenzy,
It was rough, jagged and somewhat lengthy.
It’s many eyes darted from left to right,
After they adjusted to the blaring light.
Now it was moving with such a quick pace,
Its tail whipping fast, like that of a mace.
It slithered and squirmed along the fresh grass,
Up and along the stone built underpass.
It went up, up, right above the clouds,
Singing like the birds on tallest boughs.
It was swift and sharp like the midday breeze,
And as persistent as the rustling of trees.
It soared high and long looking down at the world,
Round and round the creature had whirled.
It began to get late so it was time to come down,
It descended thousands of feet until it hit the ground.
Back on earth it longed for its prey,
To surround and attack and ultimately decay.
A feeble soul who wishes for the best,
It will make an acquaintance inside of one’s chest.
Now some might say it’s a creature of nightmares,
Which dwells at night in the darkest of lairs.
To root out the good and jubilance alike,
It will burn out the happiness with one swift strike.
There’s no limit to the things it can do,
And at any time it can come visit you.
Reflections Literary Magazine 