Flesh, petal-thin
The organs within
Stretching and pushing and yearning to break
Out of that membrane, some fatal mistake
They made when their chemicals were being rearranged
Their faulty workings, their effects strange
The way they twist and wither in the mind so
A venom inside does writhe and grow
Beating its wings against the body's inner cavity
Pressed down by the skin and the stark weight of gravity
Sharp lacerations bleed from the inside
Wounds bloom on the skin, impossible to hide
Black circles wind round fingers and eyes
Breaking free the venomous creature flies-
Breaking free from the gaping hole it left behind
Taking with it the last faint bit of the mind
That once lay awake at night worrying when
The creature would rip through its petal-thin skin