The Biter of Hands

Wax pools around its form,
Its light pink flesh that it hath lost.
Followers surround it like a swarm,
Their bodies it exhausts.

Only muscles and tendons do remain,
To bite the hands of the willing.
Its fleshy wax it will regain,
In a perverse form of killing.

Any overworker will placate,
Their bosses happy to ensnare.
Money and self worth is the bait,
All that leads is to a skeleton bare.

It once guarded those with spermaceti,
But humans hunted them for candles.
Now it eats them like spaghetti,
Humans using its teeth as handles.

Two wicks at both ends of our bones,
Flickering pink the vigour of man.
We are forced to repay our grisly loans,
To the whale, to the Biter of Hands.