It slipped inside you. Yes it did.

Curled in your chestier cage and slept.
No knowledge, no awareness, it’s existence unheard;
unknown-ness was it, and it slumbered long years.

It had shocking appetite. Drained you did it.
Drank you and suckled, its tit your dear heart.
Through ages you slimmed, shrank, and fell weak,
with every palpitate, with every sharp breath.

It grew over time. Grew in and grew strong.
Your heart thundered in strain,
your veins did thin despairingly; you had no more time,
its birth was inevitable.

It cracked you in two, one night in the dark.
Left you split dead, right down the middle.
It clambered up upon legs, much like your own,
and it walked forward, it did, not looking back.

One day I met it. Yes, I did.

It had an impeccable posture, a firm handshake.
It had charm and grace, a mouth of white teeth.
It had murderous intentions, and a desire for meat.

When I asked who it was it had taken your name.
When I asked where it’d been, it said it’d been living.
And when I asked where you’d gone, it said, quite attractively,
“It doesn’t much matter, for clearly, they didn’t much care, or else they would have stopped me.”

It spread like wildfire.

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