It eats away at you.
Not as an aging beast,
Scraping against your bones
With tired teeth.
Not as a starving wolf,
Gorging on your blood
While you watch.
Not as a hateful bear,
Licking your skull
As you accept your fate.
And certainly not as a chef,
Working with care
To perfect his recipe.
It consumes you,
Infinitely demanding, claiming,
Cracking your bones with the weight of its embrace
And pinching your lungs with its entitled hold.
It splits you down the middle,
Bearing your flaws and thoughts and sentiments
To a gawking crowd,
Demanding too much, too fast,
Thrusting you forward into judgement
Until you're rubbed raw by the scrutiny,
Every nerve aflame.