you’re running towards your doom
a voice tinny in the distant wood
when the bark falls off
the vines take over 
with their webbed strands
holding fast as the meat falls apart
it’s a cycle
not of supremacy
but a changing of the guards
it’s understandable to try to claw
your way back to the torch
once it’s handed over
even after how long you complained
of the strain of carrying it
to be wistfully 
strewn on the forest floor 
as the voice trails off 
down a twisting path

3 comments:

  1. it's a cycle / not of supremacy/ but a changing of the guards is a really nicely put complex but clear thing!

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  2. i love how when the bark falls off might belong to the line prior (a voice, a dog's voice!) or the line below <3 so lyrical and dark and lovely

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  3. wistfully strewn on the forest floor <3

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