March 27, 2009
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There is a monster over my shoulder.
It pants hot air, has claws that dig into my flesh.
It feeds on my dreams, the sweet delightful fantasies,
By shattering them and consuming them slowly.
Its eyes glow red, and I see it at night,
Waiting, pouncing, a vicious cycle of torture.
It is a monster that can’t be contained.
Its presence burns, leaves marks on my face.
Its shadow weighs heavy over my heart, consumes me
From the inside, with its hidden fangs.
Young children wish to meet this monster
For it wears the pleasing face of an angel.
But those wise know its true terrors
That makes our hearts gasp with fear at night.
Its silence and stealth, like a subtle malediction,
Remains seemingly benign until it strikes.
Yet knowledge is no shielding amulet against its grip.
It will remain when it finds me dead
And even then it’d consume my bones and flesh,
Until I am no more, a carcass left to rot
Left only with my glassy eyes
To tell the hideous crime of Time

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