It creeps along the ocean floor,
Waiting to kill its prey.
The people don’t know what’s in store,
It patiently must wait.

This ship is small and feeble,
It will be easy to devour.
The people, oh, the people!
They taste so sweet and sour.

The beast slithers to the top,
The sun is blinding it.
Its suction-cupped tentacles pop,
Readying for a direct hit.

It gets closer and closer still,
The anticipation, high.
It’s close enough to kill,
It feels the warmth of the sky.

Suddenly there is a moaning,
The people fear what is true.
The rueful beast is saying,
“There is no hope for you.”

The tentacles hug the ship,
There’s instantly many screams.
The monster forms a death grip,
The ship crumbles, starting at the beams.

The people slash at it,
With swords and guns galore.
They know they’re dying in the pit- of the beast,
This monster is no folklore.

It’s quiet now: the aftermath,
It killed them to the core.
This one was a bloodbath,
It sinks back down, awaiting more.