The monsters that live among us.

The monsters that live among us.

They do not dwell in shadowed caves,
Nor rise at midnight from the graves,
No slimy scales, no horns of dread,
No glowing eyes beneath the bed.

They walk the sunlit streets at noon,
And drink our coffee, hum our tune.
They smile and shake us by the hand,
The gentlest souls in all the land.

They wear the guise of friend and kin,
With polished grace and charm akin
To angels—yet behind the eyes,
A cold, calculating hunger lies.

They feed on trust, they swallow grace,
And leave an empty, haunted space.
No silver stake, no holy fire
Can tame the beast of their desire.

For human skin is just a shroud,
To hide among the waking crowd.
Beware the beast with human face—
The apex of our modern race.