The Beast


The Beast:

My instinct tells me I need to Flea,
But the Monstrous hands wrap around me,
Before I could move or make a sound,
I was instantly pinned down to the ground.
It’s scaly, unearthly skin scratched my gentle body,
I knew in that moment the beast was angry.
Its hot breath was a gruesome smell,
I tried to break free, I tried to yell,
But his constricting claws gnashed my face,
As his body closed around me, consuming the last space.
These were my final moments, my final thoughts,
I lay there submissive, while my stomach was in knots.
It let out a roar, as time seemed to stand still,
I knew I was about to be its next kill.
I closed my eyes, preparing for my last breath,
Wondering what people would say about my death.
I should’ve listened to the warnings and tales,
About the beast in the woods with thorns and scales.
If I could go back, I would’ve never crossed that fence,
I hope more people out there have more common sense.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem