Walking down the halls the demons stare,

judging you by every little hair.

If your feeling sad just be glad.

Every little eye,

every little staring eye.

Searching your body part by body part.

Every piece of clothing,

searching for something… anything.

A lead in a crime,

the path to a puzzle,

the answer to a problem,

a piece of evidence to a story.

All waiting to be solved,

answered,

found,

discovered.

Whatever it may be,

they prey over him or her.

They peck at their feast,

until they've finished.

Licked the platter clean,

however you partake,

the act will be done,

They may have just begun.