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.

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