The Monster in the Cage

A lone dark-coated figure standing in fog with thin iron cage bars rising straight through their silhouette, a faint red glint at the head and a pale full moon overhead.

The monster left the cageOn a SaturdayScratched and clawed throughWith every inch of destructionOn common planesAs it is devouredA befitting feast

The monster left the cageAnd moved when the sun setThe times he shined bestWas when the moon was fullestSeizing all in sightBefore the sun shines

The monster left the cageOn a third favorite dayMoulding it’s accomplishments in clayFrom door to doorThen carried is dust to dust

The monster left the cageAt midnight, only comes outWhen it’s darkAll he reminisces are bluesMovements silent but swiftYour eyes lights up in redThose who stare considered dead

Precision strikesIn a days mightAll within that carnage and dangerGoing left yet moving rightThe man went huntingFor monsters firstThen incentives of all formOr so he thoughtChasing all and sundryGoing round a continentThen realizing,The monster was the cageThe man was the cageThe monster was the man