Paul Olivier Poet Rhyme

Attack of the 70ft Super Ego

INT. SCENE 1 – THE AWAKENING – DAY
FADE IN:

It was born in a test tube,
Twitching organic mass, form skewed.
They fed it chaos and it grew.
More tests ordered. More data due.

They poked it daily for a phase,
Kept in an incubator daze.
Mesmerising to watch,
This new form scared of touch.

It was secret, shrouded in myth.
No regret subverting parental shift.
They caged it for safety,
They said.
It would rage, unsure of identity.
It bled.
But did it feel pain? Skins shed.
The question kept being asked.
They poked again—curiosity unmasked.

-

EXT. SCENE 2 – THE ESCAPE – NIGHT

The compound was a proud facility,
A bastion of societal stability.
But they had no idea what they had.
They didn’t know it was sad,
Or how that rage would come in waves—
Bursts of fury none could brave.

Of course it escaped.
It saw trees, tried their shape.
Standing gave no thrill,
So it moved on with sentient will.
No longer content to mimic or mirror—
Its form turned strange, its outline unclear.

INSERT: NEWSCAST AUDIO
“Smelly blob terrorizes locals—”
It became the talk of social vocals.
It smells, it looks forlorn.
It better behave or be clearly gone.

Edges undefined,
Obscure and growing all the time.
Tentacles and warped limbs,
A head that could be a stomach—or wing.
A sight to shake your footing if you dared to look up.

It reached the city, tore buildings down.
Huge now, destruction for a crown.
It stomped, it thrashed, toward the centre bound.
And the scholars in their coats
Poked again—
It hollered, several guttural throats.

-

EXT. SCENE 3 – THE BATTLE – DAY

They didn’t know what it was—so they tried to destroy it.
It ran amok. We can’t employ it.
We can’t live with what we can’t control.
We mustn’t underestimate our role.
Kill the beast.
Then—it spoke.

CAMERA PANS IN – THE MONSTER SPEAKS

I’m ill-formed.
You brought me here, gave me these tools.
I don’t know what I am either,
But I’m trying to find where I belong.
To roam, to take shape.
I want your help—
But I won’t get it.
In the tube, I felt defined.
Out here, misplaced.
Scared and angry feel the same.
If I must be killed,
Aim for the head—
But tell me first…
Where that is.

FADE OUT: sirens stop, dust settles, silence.

♡Like0

Share Poem

---

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment