Homecoming
From limbo he had returned to his bed,
The monster with no blood on his head.
Miraculously he could see, hear and talk,
As he got up he noticed, he could walk.
But what good is it to talk, scream yell,
If there’s no one this story you could tell?
Even though the monster regained control
He had lost hiss essence, his very own soul.
He stepped up to the window, took a look
Around. He saw, than he violently shook.
Everything the same. Forever alone he’d be
This is what the poor monster could see.
But now he did not feel sorrow, nor pain,
He knew, in just three days he’ll be slain.
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