Wait...don't go. I'm sorry. Don't you trust me? It was an accident. I didn't mean...to hurt. Please. Come back. I'll be more careful. It's just...the claws. Not me. I would never, ever...would I? I do own the claws, true, but still....it was them. I just own them. It's not my fault. I had to. Please. If I hadn't, I would have...lost them. I need them. They love me. Can't you see?...I just carry out it's wishes. But, it's okay now. I'm done, well, they are. For now. You're safe. Why...don't you believe me? I'm sorry. But I can't stop. Nor can I tell you their reasoning. They won't let me. I wish I could, though. But it'll be worth it, you'll see. They need me too...so they can stay with me. They need sacrifice, to know I'm worthy. I'm sorry...please don't cry.
Which is good in regards to both poetry and experimental ficton (such as this). Even if it was not your initial intention: that is the result. It is also something that fits the short story discipline well.