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| Feelings The beast, now unchained, Runs wild once more, Pure rage, unleashed, From the skin to the core. It's hair, dark brown, Turns Gold with hue, And stands on end, For it's pray to view. It's eyes, once brown, Are green instead. A burning urge Running through it's head. Muscles ripple Each move it makes. Small craters form With every step it takes. For no reason The beast then stops. Down on all fours Does the massive thing drop. A strange feeling Tears through it's heart. That brought it down, Like a poisonous dart. Was it a knife? It hit too fast. Perhaps, maybe, It's an energy blast? No, none of that. Let's be for real. Only one thing Could make this beast kneel. A single thought Of one cared for, Begging to stop; To continue no more. The rest of this poems shall not be finished due to the complications of mixed feelings and emotions. |
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