Wrath


Thursday 

I wait for rotten egg ashes to rain on my unsettled soul.

Listen for the tell-tale crack of a broken cry — lost, anguished

Feel the deep, angry rumblings of discontent

Slashed and torn wide open by

Baby monsters

Crawling and plundering the surface,

One on top of the other

Frenzied, unrelenting, unstoppable

Mad with power, drunk with freedom

A growing and insatiable need to devour

They will die ugly, tortuous, stench-filled deaths

Frozen into unrecognizable renderings of what once was

But not until the required sacrifice is meted out

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