Trap

Life whooshes by, seeming so unreal.
Defeated and frozen, I no longer feel
this thing that people call
inspiration.
Life's batters and bruises pile on and on.
Melancholy's conclusion long foregone,
it seems everything's become a
negotiation.
With eyes flashing and an acrid smile, I am a wounded, cornered beast.
Salivating hungry carnivores surround all the while, gathering for a feast--
Bloodthirsty lips licking in
anticipation.
Grains of sand pass
through the minutiae of the hourglass
ever
so
slowly.
Staring down the foe
with many rounds left to go
How much can the animal that lives inside of me
handle solely?
The story isn't done.
The predators haven't won
though they sit, conniving and scheming in the wait.
They think I am the prey.
But in the end
what they don't seem to comprehend
is that I have more to say, and really,

l'm the bait.