Carcinization

He would see friends of his past, Turn to foes of the present, They would chase behind his back, Human shadows, both crooked and unpleasant. His eyes felt and saw differently, No longer a need for a nose, He had new red-colored pincers, And eight legs with no toes. Amidst his panic, he felt the waves, The sandy waves that lured him, Deep into its treacherous flow, An opportunity to escape, Only to that side could he dare to go... He couldn't move back nor forth, Was it his imagination? He could only move in an axis, The first human to succumb to carcinization...