Don't eat your lunch here
For this is where the monsters sit.
I can smell what has been left behind.
And I even found a dirty old doll once,
Not very cleanly.
It doesn't bother me really.
I'm not interested in lunch.
As I sit I can feel the monstrosity swell within me,
Like I'm pregnant with a hunger waiting to be born.
When it emerges from my guts,
I will dress it up as a baby monster
With little plush horns and claw-mittens,
But I will not feed it lunch.
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