The Ever So Wretched

Among the abandoned hallways now,

He still marches, looking for me.

I've been hiding among the dust,

Beneath crumbling desks, and encroaching rust.

He generally stays in the halls,

Marching heavily, on the other side of the wall.

But when he thinks he’s found me,

He wails and screams, as he dents the door.

The once hard metal can only take so much,

I cower where I hide, as he shrieks for hours.

Until the door ultimately falls,

So I sit there waiting, curled up lightly sobbing.

He then leans down toward me,

Then grabs my hand, putting one of my fingers in his jaws.

He then bites down without any expression,

Until the bones are broken, and the tendons are severed.

He then chews up the digit,

And smiles, before walking away.

I don’t know where he goes,

I've never followed him, but he goes.

And a week later he returns,

Marching heavily, looking for me.

I still have four digits,

Eleven, if toes count.

There are many more rooms,

I have little hope, they lead anywhere.

But I lost optimism long ago,

I can hear, he is out there.

The sound of chewing enters my ears,

The ever so wretched, is staring through the window beside me.