Dear beast,

It’s me, nothing.

How was your journey?

I don’t mean to patronise,

But I’ve been right there.

The charm of your roar,

Blistered by consequence.

The sparkle of your teeth,

Now thread through mistake.

Your actions now compiled,

Like pillows against that red door.

You’ve fed on morality long enough,

It’s time to choose.

Roam freely to an early grave,

Or repent back to your mother’s voice.

Excuse, excuse, excuse,

The battle song blows.

I know it wasn’t you fault beast,

But eventually, it is.

Before the cage you burst is that of your mind.

Before the children sing to you on paper.

Be still beast, before it’s too late.

Flee from the road, pathed in hate.

From roaring heart, to deathly still,

Agony shines, from beast to nill.

And to think I was once a child.