Well, Shit

she lives in a world pieced together with scraps of fantasies dreams nightmares and fears

it’s the collection she has carried with her since before she was born

it came embedded in her DNA sent along with the atrocities her parents once bore

and where ever she went she picked up more

a magnet for despair

her steps are geological finds

brush away the dirt and the dust and you still wont see her

petrified artifacts of her being paled and cracked

she is impossible to see but sits plainly in site

she doesn’t really exist but somehow she is right here

she longs to go home but doesn’t know the way

she screams to get out but her fears keep her near

a fly in a spider web

the more she moves the more entangled she becomes

but if she sits still death will surely come

hope for an ice storm to shred the web to tangled strands

but encase her in a frozen death

pray a wolf runs through the web and carries her away

at the mercy of the wild animal’s voracity

thrown off in a river rushing towards the sea

swept up in a rip tide never to resurface

or scooped up by a vulture pecking through the night

dropped in the muck of blood and gore

to just rot away

or mistaken for gristle

and shat out in a steaming heap

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