It begins as a dark itch
It writhes and ticks within the skin
Pulling up its sense of dread
Never to be happy, ever again
In it shallow, murky water lie
Waiting to swallow all things whole
Chewed up and taken, fingers and toes
No pieces shall remain to come back, nothing shall ever really last
It begins as a dark itch
Waiting to catch them as they scratch
Luring its victims in, it has never been beseeched on its own
Luring its victims in, so it can play its dark game again.
