The Scarab Beetle
By: Shelby Park
The scarab beetle with eyes of ruby
It has no soul, and yet does a spirit
It whispers wicked things to me in jest
The beaten earth, I harrowed very deep
And found it, cracked and dull with antique crimes
The scarab beetle with eyes of ruby
The beetle tells me things I want to hear
And though I hate it, never will it stop
It whispers wicked things to me in jest
My mind contorted, strange and twisted out
And though it’s odd to say, I find I blame
The scarab beetle with eyes of ruby
I hold the beetle, sinful deeds pour out
And when I try to sleep in mournful nights
It whispers wicked things to me in jest
And all the things regret reminds me of
Will not be forgotten when I still hold
The scarab beetle with eyes of ruby
The world is cast in veiled shadow curtains
Where no-one else can reach me, save my friend
It whispers wicked things to me in jest
When people notice something’s wrong in me
The only words that come to rotted mind:
“The scarab beetle with eyes of ruby,
It whispers wicked things to me in jest”.
About the Author
Shelby Park is a New Zealand writer and avid collector of stories — from mythology to ballet to classic literature. She also enjoys building LEGO sets and watching movies.
