rot of ages could not enlarge,
then and now no heart knew compassion.
I was that murderer, that blank stare,
the beast inhuman villagers burned,
tale parents spun for truant children,
terror at night,
her eyes wide, sightless in the dark.
I the coward's knife from behind
tracing his 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.
Your Kind buried me,
and buries still,
when you find me.
Yet here I wait.
Feast of abundance.
upon which I feed.
I linger 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.