The Monstrosity Within


A boy, crawling from the den
Hands, necks, bruised again
Screaming death inside his chest
A ripping, tearing, wretched mess

Twisted bodies upon the floor
Shredding hearts as It clamors for more
And at the heart of It's endless pursuit
The smoking gun that It might shoot

Everything buzzing, like swarming bees
Shoving the boy down to his knees
His own dead eyes glaring back
In the mirror since painted black

The weapon of choice today: a rock
It strikes in time with the ticking clock
The boy's wails, begging to stop
Blood spilling, far more than a drop

At last, the monster has finished his fun
And the boy limps as he tries to run
He hides in the dark of the piercing night
And now all he can do is write

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