12.13.23

A Dying Bitch, 

I'm left to rot, 

prickled, lame, 

No second thought. 


Twisted wrist, 

Clutching tight, 

Those empty hands, 

Their knuckles white. 


Their feathers fall, 

The children scream, 

abruptly roused, 

From a terrible dream. 


Reality's cage, 

The nightmare ends, 

A heavy goodbye 

to their dear friends


Blood on stone, 

The rocks in skin, 

Sacrificing their own kin. 


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