IT

He stares around
a vacant old man
wistfully thinking
of what he used to know.
IT has stolen
the joy of living
the pleasure of being.
Like a jewel thief
IT has taken the most precious gems
leaving only the settings.
Like a rapist
IT has taken the spirit
and discarded the body.
An ugly, greedy beast
always panting
with ravenous appetite
ITS fangs drip
with life-blood
ITS crazed feeding
devours
until there is no more
and even then
IT will attack those who come
to feed on the remains.
ITS greed
knows no bounds
devouring even the flies
that alight on the carcass.
And yet the glinting
crazed eyes
mired in the gluttonous lust
of the tossing head
fail to see
the tiny ant
moving through
the gnawed bones,
stealing a forgotten piece
and quietly slipping away
to feed its hungry colony.
Life from death
provision from destruction
hope from despair:
it has not won.
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