You mere man, How dare you? Frail, fragile, slow wanna-be monster. All bark, But you think you're a god. You brandish the dagger, A sly smile 'cause you think you're it, The THING. Your brain is foggy, Clouded with the excitement, And the foul venom of a stupid snake. Mad, mad man. You take off the disguise, Brown, dirty, wet mask Because you think you're it, The THING. She is in between the circus show And her lover's arm. He's kissing her and you see her toes curl. The blast of happiness hits you deep In the eye, And so you don't wait. The dagger plunges deep, The layers of her flesh cut open, And dark red blood pours out. You took her while she dreamed, And stole her dream of gentle things, Of love, waterfall and, for once, Her happily ever after. Come to me, you vile and weak creature. Sink your knees to the dirt and crawl to me. Worship me, beg me. I hold your life in my hands, A soft tiny sponge I'd squeeze, And make sure you're awake while it happens. –Omokushe.