Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2010
DO NOT FEED: there it is again,

mouth agape in vile contortion,

with teeth white and throat black.

Behind steel bars it sits and

waits for gratification from

admiring fools, as we provide

seed and fruit, the dried kind,

from a vacuum-sealed package

that we bought at the market last Tuesday.

But sometimes we feed it blood and

it gets hungrier.
Written by
William Delaney
608
     D Conors
Please log in to view and add comments on poems