The Canker Worm Crime Poem by Edmund V. Strolis

In the dark places of our hearts we hide a wicked treasure.
Toadstools not tulips line this decaying place
Yet decadence is the very thing on which these secrets thrive
Some have them in the crusty cracks of unsettled minds
Others barely stay concealed and ooze in porous petulance
The smaller sins like moss they grow, common crabgrass lies
But the secrets I speak of breathe a tumorous odorous hack
Their's is the slime of a nightmarish canker worm crime
Born of nature or nurture it dines upon free will
The teeth of the brute can be charming or carnivorous
The primordial heart beats a drum of coarse existence
Beneath plotting eyes of opportunity checked only by necessity