Leprocy
While still alive, my flesh does rot.
I've been buried alive, but my anger has not.
Feared me because of my deadly disease,
For I was cursed with Leprosy.
Stabbed me with daggers, perversely scared.
They thought burying me alive would do them no harm,
I wait for maggots to feed upon me.
They've come, crawling, I still can see.
They're sure, it seems, I've met my fate.
Now the maggots help me to regenerate.
Consuming rotted flesh, the disease wiped away.
Retched symbiosis, I help the insects as they help me.
I can move, once again, my bare muscles exposed.
Crawl out of grave, with fury overdosed.
Moving through the corpseyard, I grab a gravedigger's axe.
I'll find my attempted murderers to break their feeble backs.
Next time they check up on me, to see if I am yet dead,
I'll make it my mission, to rip off all their heads.
Once this curse dawned over me,
Until the maggots set me free.