Monster

One could argue that this is a poem about perspective. I'd like to keep it vague.

How could I do anything but flee?
How should one react
to red eyes and pearly daggers for teeth?

A maw surely stained with blood
large enough to swallow me whole
and leave my bones in the mud

A howl that haunts each waking thought
whose constance embeds itself
so that its absence makes me distraught

With tendrils to snap me
like they would a twig
and a crushing grip to trap me

An understanding of my self as prey
Where might I be safe
and not feel hunted every day?

Knowledge of where I hurt
and where to press
in order to make it worse

What sense is in enduring
when the beast I see
demonstrates such violent fury?

It could spill my guts
or rip me limb from limb
and I'm supposed to live with trust?

I've bled for far too long
I'd rather stay safe
Is isolation honestly a high price to pay?

Maybe if I board up the doors,
it will go away
I don't want to deal with the danger in store

Cool all the candles
and hide under the bed
That way, there's no harm for me to handle

What if I go mad in the dark?
The thing lurks out there
Surely it's safer indoors than in the park

Where am I to go?
I'm either trapped or on the run
Will fear become all I know?