Demon of the Generational Curse

a poem by Kristine J. Trudeau, USA

It was awake in the darkness. It did not move. It felt nothing but hatred and
hunger and it knew the hunger would build as time passed.
Time had no meaning for it. Its existence revolved around its cycles of
The cycles only varied according to the cycles of the bloodline.
Once it had been a part of the bloodline.
Now, its very existence depended upon that same bloodline.
It moved when they moved.
It tasted the changes as the bloodline aged.
Now it was awake,
it waited.

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