Progeny Feast

When the opening arrived, their call to emerge

Activated with only one task at hand; consume those with the most vitality

Unable to guide themselves, they served as the fledgling meal

The acidic secretions, make quick work of their dermis with no integument to save them

The vociferous shrieks of the helpless observer in the knowledge it will also be their outcome

Some even offer themselves as if there was a prospect of mercy, from the illustrious eating machines

The sound of masticating, a small respite that their sufferer has at least expired

But they continue, seemingly never to be surfeited

Driven by the instinct for the next hunt and so they dine

Undone by our own unerring spread