I am not a tiger, a vampire, or a ghost.

I cannot attack them straight on with my ferocious strength. I cannot watch them bleed from my claws.

I cannot lure them with beauty and perfection, lulling them in with a smile, snapping necks with bare hands.

I cannot sneak up on the shadows gliding soundlessly until I strike. A whisper, a warning, wherever I go.

But I can sew together my seams and glue the cracks together. I can fold down the edges and become a gentle circle. I can smile just the right amount to be a gentle, innocent flower, a master of deception.

I am a Venus flytrap.

An unknowing flower, not as pretty as the rest,
but soft and gentle, a perfect place to rest

Until I close my gapping mouth around you trapping you inside,
Eating you piece by piece until the pain destroys you from inside.