I am summoned from the darkness, drawn by a gripping hand and forced into a tight shell of flesh. I feel pain, burning, searing and unending. The hunger tears at me, makes me weak. I wait. I can do nothing but wait.
Eyes open, search the darkness, and blink as light flares. I scent food at last, feel the energy pour into me as I consume, easing hunger, soothing pain.
I am not alone. I must fight for my space, must battle for control. My opponent is weak, stripped of armour, weaponless and afraid. I am strong. I win and now I have room to grow.
Time passes and I am stronger every day. Nothing is beyond me, no challenge goes unmet. I am content.
Pain. Again the pain! Uncertainty, hunger and pain. Confusion weakens me and I sense my first adversary growing stronger after sleeping so long.
I feed but am not sated. There is emptiness always after every mouthful. I am tortured, a living death. I grow weak.
I face him once more and this time he blazes like the sun and I am blinded, cast out. The darkness howls as it receives me. I am free once more but I am lost. There is no room for me in my prison, my kingdom and I am lonely.
Summoned from darkness
Painful my birth
Inside my shell
Kaos brings mirth
Sate hunger deep
Dying to feed me
Except those I keep
Many pursue me
One target their goal
No one can rescue
(My hostage; his soul)
A/N The poem is an acrostic, giving the identity of the POV.
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