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The Creature...

Poetry By: walkingonfate

A poem about confusion

Submitted:Oct 6, 2009    Reads: 84    Comments: 5    Likes: 2   

What is this being

that whimpers in the corner

I see across his back

the scars of a dream


What is this creature

that hides in shame

flees from torment

and writhes

when i call his name

Outstreched is my helping hand


I myself do become

I give my own

my all

to you

and with one bitter




a gnash of hatred sharpened

gnarly teeth

from the bone

you cut my fingers clean

And i ask myself


in quick fashion

retract my rejection

as my muscles retract my arm

from your damp and dank self-pity,

What is this creature?

With greens and greys

and mud-caked brown

shades of darkness

coceal you

with bruised

and bitter


that pattern

the humped arch

of your stained back

What are you?


Whimpering in the lonely

holes of self pity

striking matches against the oily walls

the mine within the caverns

within the caverns

within the mines

strike the match against the oily walls

burn away the scars

You chant the words

with slippery tongue

within the caverns

within the walls

the oil

the mines



the scars

I run

No first I turn

then run

Then set my feet upon the ground

then turn

then run

Then strike the match upon the oily walls

Between his teeth

my fingers close

snap like twigs

in the assertive bite

the firm grip

of tooth on tooth

of lip

on lip

of matches on oily walls

within the mines

within the caverns

Set it all ablaze

The flames are spreading

A piercing cry

Hot trails across the notches in your skin

What are you,

you lowly creature


Release me

For the scars can not be burnt away


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