Creatures

 

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

as I make my way through the trees.

Stepping ever so lightly on the leaves below,

Lest anyone hears my breathing shallow.

Through the shrubs I stealthily move,

with a steady pace I tighten the noose,

the invisible rope with which I track the prey,

Tugging at which gently brings it close.

 

Driven with pure instinct I decide to pounce,

a quick rustle the prey hears and turns around.

Doesn't see me there and his fear starts to grow.

That it'll be soon over is such a terrible thing to know.

 

Satisfied I'm making my way to my bed,

But stories of the mysterious forest creatures

run through my head.

Who hasn't heard the tales of old?

from generation to generation they're greedily told,

the stories curdle your blood and chill your bones,

though always told in whispering tones.

 

They were always about someone distant you didn't know,

Suddenly it happened to someone you did know.

Young & careless, you still brush them away,

It's something that couldn't happen to you.

 

That while walking alone in the jungle

one must constantly be wary,

lest you encounter these abominations

once you're tired and weary.

Only when you venture far enough from your den,

where the jungle grows different in unfamiliar terrain.

Then you see them looking silently at you.

They look like you, only slightly askew.

 

Their bodies are slender with similar proportion,

fur is thin and bright, it's your perverted version.

As if meant to stand out in twilight, not hide,

everything about them seems unjustified.

Their eyes are a little too black,

face a little too long,

ears a little too sharp,

and their stench a little too strong.

 

My instincts twitch before my senses detect,

Today I've ventured from my den a little too far ahead,

After the kill proudly as I stood,

I see the monster in the woods.

Gently gazing at me from a distance, covered in pure white fur,

The eyes seemed like black Opals in snow,

Oh! someone for company I would prefer.

 

It opens its mouth, I hear it's garbled words,

Seems like a cacophony of a thousand birds.

It's trying hard to mimic your voice you feel,

But it's not your kind, a fact that 'it' can't conceal.

No matter how it tries, the creature is not true,

It is but a parody of you.

It has caught you now, you cannot go,

Oh! It is such a terrible thing to know.