'it' flows past arches of tainted memories and sticks in the belly as deep as a claw
'No, ' I cried to the shadowey keep, hush of silence wove braids in the silent of nights weep.
So It was waiting, how cunning to have followed me here, to my shrine a personal haven of personal inspection where no other than a vendetta followed me in the waking.
my mind know piles of extinction and i have broth enough to ken
a worried response from more than one human around me
'Laugh! , ' I twirled
Lit cigarette in hand, foul creature abreast my eye -leave now I command
But the click glutal sound of impending light-
shattered my concept of self imposed disillusion
Who was I kidding?
It would never leave
It has too much fun torturing my mind-mere erosion
Are these clovers of pickled reflection
and the drumming of It's hand marks the end-
my dream hazed recollection.

Candice Renae Williams

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-a-dawning/