Clawed Beast

The mood struck me for a poem again, so who am I to question it. I'm not sure what my Creative Writing tutor at University would have to say about this, she doubted my ability to create any kind of poetry... But here it is, despite her belief or lack thereof of my ability. It's written as I felt it, the rhythm was that which struck me at the hour of writing it. The rhyme is one that formed as I went along, I enjoyed it, so stuck with it.



Clawed Beast

She slid in through the door, my heart did stop
On her skin your mark she wore

My heart would not be weak, were it not for her
She slipped her claws between the meat

Amongst my bones and skin does beat, to the rhythm
Of her voice a sound not sweet

Though marked she came to me, I did not think
To stop and look I did not see

Her silky skin I pressed to mine, cold and slim
Her hands did grip me like a vice

I yearned for warmth and hot desire, but instead
All she brought was a lacklustre fire

Sweat dripped on to me salty and wet, and as she
Sang to me I did soon forget

Her scathing claws took out a chunk, of bleeding flesh
Used up and left like so much junk

And how is it now I yearn for more, I long and crave
To see her slide in through my door


Like it or loath it, I'd love to hear any opinions, if the words made you feel anything at all (positive or negative) then drop me a comment below! 

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