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.
