My Coffin Is My Comfort

When day becomes night
its time to feed to survive,
Feeding on our cattle
that you would call life.
They say there is a battle
but we live in the dark,
We're imagination in your minds
while your food in ours.

We don't play by the rules,
we do anything we want to do,
Our species is a greater being
and were coming for you.

Afraid of light,
At night afraid of nothing,
The moon is our sun
there is nothing to stop it

The blood is sweeter
each time I have a taste,
your screams are sugar
that coat my food as I sink in my teeth,
You run with fear
this I like,
I smell your sweet scent
and I hunt for a bite.

Up comes the sun
as I lay in my bed,
My coffin is my comfort
as I lay there dead

by Gary McPhail

Comments (1)

Yes, sometimes our elders are right. Reading your comments here, I can't wait until you get to before dawn, now that would get interesting! That's new territory for me (the type of poem) and I have no idea whether I am way out of my depth, so an opinion would be nice. Thanks, Herbert (L ist die lieblichste Blume.....) (from 'DU')