Bottom-Feeder Poem by David Thomas

Crunch crunch crunch
claws the angry bottom-feeder
who in his desperate strides
clings to any such life
and smothers it up in his jaws

pop-crackle-snap
the sound of bones breaking
torment from all the pain they feel
breaking them into pieces and pieces

Svooomp
the bottom-feeder is agile and keen
he sees all that we see
and then a little bit more,
in the darkness where he breathes
he is king of shadows
and in his foul temper,
he will devour all that stands to reason

Upon needles he walks
for in the water nothing must move,
the ripples will attract him
the tears of young hearts breaking hearts
oh the joy he reaps from sadness,
for this bottom-feeder knows no bounds
and he will devour us all until we are
unable to be found,

and so we set forth
with our hands enfolded and our
chests puffed out,
to make sense of what we can
so when he shows his ugly little head,
we can grab him fast,
and drag his sorry soul-crunching
bone munching self back up to the surface
where he will be feasted upon in daylight,
that thing he hates the most

and amongst his final moments,
we'll face him with the lamentations of no one
as he passes on into a place full of far more
than just shadows.