victim of conquest
heart impaled the shrikes are screaming
as if the agony is supposed to mean something
more than misery
as if mounting my soul on a pike is meant to
make me fit in just right.
blending into this cacophony of society i must
destroy that soft part of me.
where it's pulse doesn't match my step anymore
because it's dead, forevermore.
a sacrifice rotting in the sun - melting, decaying
and at last it is done.
dripping rot into the earth i emerge hungry
the shrikes have picked clean all that i used to be
so i walk away.
there is nothing left for me in this place.