Sounds no one heard but me,
shriek of woes excruciating survival,
the heads recoil sipping juice of no residue,
tentacles move invisibly possessing even every grains left,
no sooner the mighty squeeze the birth to rest.
So sincere, shroud, solemn never seen,
the sickly glow of treacherous footpath,
encompassing the populated minorities of dark,
a claim so erratic in taboo's milieu
so weird in the delirium of one's illusion.