What seems to be
Often is not
Beneath the surface
Boiling and seething
Lies one
You’ve never seen
And never will.
It lives in utter blackness
Searing cold
Fearing every creak
Raging at empty spaces
Weeping and morose
Lying on the floor
As hours go by
Never sleeping
Always silently watching
Pacing feverishly
Knowing every inch
Of every floorboard
Til its legs burn with fire.
The darkness holds it
Like a prisoner
Like a chained animal
Like a monster.
But you will never perceive
It’s not for your eyes
For you will see
The beast that grins
And laughs
The gentle savage
You will never know
What lurks beneath.
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