Ground and throat forming rig
Feeding on discontent
Demons on back dancing jig
Woefully rejoicing neglect
Here is where the story could end
Spinning- facing enemy
On back you lay- looking up
Dirty face, sharp teeth
Leather skin- hands cup
Demon's exterior tearing apart
Gripping, scratching- dripping blood
Stooping down- ripping flesh
Eyes filled- a red flood
You squirm beneath in agony
With force- pushing them off
Arms shaking- anxious feeling
Demons fall- mouth excreting white froth
Rage- black orbs search your being
Turning- no looking back
Heels pounding concrete
Relentless- they chase- unending attack
Snarls drawing closer- hot on trail
Noticing shiny windows
You grab a nearby chair
Shattering, tinkling- you wrap your hand
Growling, jumping you turn in a snap
Stabbing, sinking deep
You remove the glass
Battle fought- the others flee
Limping back to place of comfort
Now they're back to sleep