We found you,
of course.
We always
do.
Your pasty grey
hands reach out, desperate.
Begging for
life.
Don’t you
know you’re already cursed?
But,
no. You’re fortunate.
How I loathe those who saved me.
Who stole me, branded me worthy.
Sewed my skin to this green, green
world.
Who seared my flesh so I could never be
free.
They’ve beat
me, they’ve won.
Don’t let
them beat you too.
So as they
hand me this torch, trust me.
As they
douse you, don’t scream.
You’ll be
free now, I promise.
I’ll do
this, yes.
I’ll do this
for you
Wow........ This is incredible.
ReplyDeleteWow, Bek. Just wow.
ReplyDelete