The Beast
It lurks in the darkness when it can assume that it is the only breath being taken
It skulks around its lands searching for a meal
All it knows is to devour through its path
Such as an arrow swiftly flies through the air
It only has the primal urge to feed itself
Not for its own stomach, nor for its mind, but its teeth is what it tears through its fare for
The feeling of another substance grinding on those perlious, pointy, pearls of its
The carnal pleasure of gnawing on what isn't its own flesh and bone fills it with satisfaction
As quickly as it enters, it runs back and slumbers through the night
Only to wake up as man