The Claw

The Claw,
it gropes,
for things that reek of night.
The Claw,
it grasps,
for sorrows still in sight.
Deceptive,
it dwindles
where lights have lost their glow,
and waits for weary souls
that have long since grown old.
But I will tell you,
the Claw
as it is called by name,
will bend at your will
if it is tamed.





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ShadowHound said...
Sept. 12, 2012 at 8:21 pm
So good! I've actually never seen a poem that good! In fact, this is the first time I've ever asked someone this because I've never seen a writer good enough - could I request for you to write a poem about "something in the darkness?" If so, thanks!
 
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