Caught

Caught

I don't want to wake you
From yourself, but
Time made all the difference
In this bag of bones;
Molding me to be what the world
Would soon turn to notice.
Monster!  With your feverish hands.
There's no pyre such as mine
That'll burn a boy like you
Into a man of solid stone.
And they'll be writing your memories
In gray ink to emphasize
How it feels to lose sight
In civility, and breathe for your
Own hunger.
Wretched child!
From the words you fed me
In the kitchen of your hand,
I will spit you out
Back to the womb
Of your
Ignorance.