Out in the cold,
The rain soaking me,
I walk with my shovel
To set myself free.

I find a good spot,
I mark my hole’s size.
I ready my tools,
Look up to the skies.

My shovel strikes the ground,
The dig, I begin.
Preparing the grave
For the beast within.

Six feet under.
I measure to the inch.
I make it suitable,
This mud-filled ditch.

The hole is now finished.
And unleash my beast.
In the hole it goes.
It’s gone now, at least.

It’s a special hole,
A choice selection.
The beast will go in their
For my own protection.

I fill up the hole.
It comes with much pain.
My beast will lie under
‘Till I need it again.

Jeremiah Prince

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/here-lies-the-beast/