At the last meeting of my high school's literary magazine, the teacher couldn't find a poem to go along with this drawing of a demon dog I did, so she told me to write one myself. And in the next two days, I came up with this:

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A Walk in the Fluorescent Neon Pogo Fields

'Twas dusk and cool and vaguely raining
And the boy was not complaining
For he thought the misty air
Would compliment the night's affairs.

He walked into the woods, though damp,
And then began to set up camp
With a few good buds, if you know what I mean,
And, deep in thought, he felt serene.

He lit a fire and watched the flames
Lick up the kindling (despite the rain)
And through the smoke he made out a shape.
The figure got bigger. He couldn't escape.

The dark- haired boy's heart thumped in peril;
The thing looked like death, albeit more feral,
And just as our hero thought to repent
He realized the creature was not heaven- sent.

The boy was soon eviscerated,
Ripped from a world he hardly hated.
The boy was bright, with eyes so blue.
He never tasted of love that was true.
(Long, long after the death ensued,
the monster still feasted and hungrily chewed.)

With needle- like teeth that were stained bright orange
The beast sucked bone marrow like it was a lozenge;
Tore into the muscles, so stringy and savory,
No secret; it was in unbridled ecstasy.

The boy didn't wake up, it wasn't a dream,
The creature existed, or so it would seem.
If you've come for a moral, you won't get one here;
For I am not one to make you live in fear.

Since our hero was missing, search parties were sent
By his parents who fretted the loss of the gent
And they called the boy's friend; said a suit would be filed,
For he was the person last seen with the child.

The friend was quite baffled because he remembered
Nothing of the night when the boy was dismembered.
T'was though his whole brain had some sort of paralysis.
Thus, he was sent to a psychoanalysist.

As he lay down in the wise doctor's chair
He remembered slight details; the cool misty air
And the motives consisting of great joviality
Followed in part by some slight inebriety.
(perhaps not so slight as the case seemed to be,
because after these details he had no more memories.)

"And, for some reason, the boy expressed fear in me;
Called me a beast for reasons still unclear to me,"
The friend continued when asked by the shrink
After pausing a couple of hours to think.

"And the boy screamed as though he was under attack
And I felt cool sensations, but then things went black."

The search continued in the woods
And then, despite all likelihood,
The body of the boy was found
(or what was left upon the ground.)

Of course you know he was eaten alive
But his loved ones were shocked by this morbid surprise.
They inspected tooth marks on the still rotting bone
And found bites like these were made by human alone.

And now that our story has come to an end
You may wonder what happened to this poor boy's friend:
Did he come clean? Well, as matter of fact,
They say once you turn cannibal
You can't go back.

Mona Sunoy
Grade 12

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Mona Sunoy is an anonymous anagram.

I haven't turned it in yet, but I'd like to thank Everything2 for the "rhymes with orange" idea.