I met the beast a few years ago.

He was lurking in the shadows,

not yet revealing his presence,

only letting a feeling crawl up my spine

that something was there.

 

This beast would eat away at my life force,

draining me little by little,

until I was at my worst.

 

I came up for short moments of fresh air,

moments when it felt my life was replenished.

I had a long moment for a little while, 

thinking I was in the clear.

 

That was until the beast in sheep's clothing appeared.

he made me think he was gone,

only to pounce on me with all his force.

 

I could feel his hot breath on my face,

rancid and sour.

I could see his eyes,

glowing red and sinister.

I could feel his nose,

sniffing me as he readied to devour.

I could feel his claws, scratching at my throat.

 

The beast was smart.

He never did any permanent damage by his own hand.

He only tempted his prey to do their own damage,

letting the victim blame him

while the rest of the world is left to blame themselves.

 

I almost fell into his trap a few times,

I almost fell victim.

At times, I waited for a convenient moment

to succumb to him.

 

But I never did.

I always found my strength,

managing to push the beast off me and back into the shadows.

 

At times, I can still sense his presence,

knowing he's waiting for when I'm weak enough for him to pounce.

 

In spite of him,

I live my life to the fullest,

milking everything I can from it

until we come face to face again.