the rot of ages could not enlarge,
then and now no heart to know compassion.
I was that murderer, that blank stare,
the beast inhuman that villagers burned,
the tale parents spun for truant children,
the terror at night, her eyes wide and sightless in the dark.
I was the coward's knife from behind
tracing that second smile,
the hard unflinching fingers at her neck,
the menace in the shadows,
unseen, unblinking, unwavering,
waiting for the moment,
that instant of inattention she gave to me.
Your Kind buried me,
continues to bury me,
when you find me.
Yet somehow I am here.
Somehow I see you.
Feast of abundance.
I do naught but feed.
Here I am, lingered in my unmarked grave,
listening beneath your home,
lying aside the path you walk,
crouching outside the chain link fence,
one step from a window,
a face in the dark to view.
Look at me,
You, perched atop society's pedestal.
I am in the crowd
waiting for the world to end.