Challenge
Death of a Content Creator
Any style.
Picking Away
longing to peck away
to write out of this box
rising each day only to drown
each dawn brings new sorrows
still looking for possibilities
subconscious has taken hold
warm and wet, thick, down a cheek
not tears but blood
picking rather than pecking
parts fall away like lint
inside the screams are deafening
writing seems impossible and the only possibility
outside wounds cleaned
pecking must persist
or picking will consume
all content within
and death will come
before any living
perhaps a swan song
the last triumphant blast
alerting those left
to to live and not just be
for death will come
let my words be the comfort
even just one, heed and heal
so rest may, at last, be mine
content with myself
and the content that remains
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