poetry, Writing

The Shepherds

Inside OF THEIR minds,
			THE BLANK SPACE IS FILLED WITH A VOID
				A BLACK HOLE OF KNOWLEDGE
						SUCKED OUT



			A REPRESENTATION
			OF THEIR TREACHERY
			THE WAY THAT THEY STEAL ALL OF THE THINGS
			WE HAVE WORKED SO HARD TO ACHIEVE




THEY GET INSIDE OF YOUR HEAD
			IN YOUR THOUGHTS
				THEY MULTIPLY

			AS THE BREEDING RATE INCREASES 
			THEIR ENERGY INCREASES AS WELL

			AT MAXIMUM POTENTIAL
			THEY WORK TEN TIMES AS FAST

			AND AS THOUROUGH AS IN THEIR ORIGINAL STATE

The more they get
		The more they crave

Leaving behind a shell so lifeless
	That it actually radiates a negative energy

The gentle pulsings of the antithesis
	Of life and activity

Not the dead, the unliving



This poem was inspired by the flesh eating metal roaches episode of the X Files. It made me think about an insectile, soul-vampire type creature.

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