Monster’s

Posted by Nightjar on September 05, 2019 · 1 min read

She beats endless, as an undead thing does
Pieces sewn together, barely does she work
But works she nonetheless, as an undead thing does

He squirms restless, twisting in fractures
He recalls proper days, not these pathetic excuses
But goes he onwards, collecting twists and fractures

He loathes her, that sick undead thing
Never tires, not one piece of hers
He yields another day, it ticks not forever

She knows he broods to be cut and dismantled
His wounds fatal, has days and numbers
But on she goes, her pieces know no reasons

He asks oh Agony, Do I deserve you dear?
His knives hover her threads. You bluff? She sneers
Unfortunate her, undead knows no fear

Frankenstein’s Monster, no argument here
But he remains Monster’s, mine, to commandeer
Knife over her, the heart, maybe today, maybe never

Maybe finally