“MaryLee,” the professor drawls,
and my head snaps up,
the dreaded news already dragging
a bone-chilling claw down my spine.
I push back my chair,
veins already bursting from
blood that only seems to rush
when everyone is staring at you.
As I begin the mile-long walk
to the front of the room,
I feel sickly moist breath
sending spider-like tingles
down my back.
The manticore has arrived.
Prowling in the back of my throat,
blocking words that long to escape.
Herding my heart to my ears,
where it can pound on the drums.
slide against each other,
as the voice grows
from a quiet growl
to a loud roar.
Seven feet tall, always in my shadow.
A shaggy obsidian mane
perpetually oozes green fear.
Eyes smoldering like coal stare,
a constant reminder of what failure means.
Wings the color of smoke from a funeral pyre;
a violet paw, as large as I am;
a scaled tail, the length of the room,
ending in a barb dripping with paralyzing toxin.
As I turn to stand at the front,
my sweat-slicked palms
slide against each other.
I prepare to force out words
my mind can’t seem to grasp,
praying that no one can see
the beast at my back.
#Unreal #Poem #Poetry #Manticore #MaryLeePry
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