the birds
are on me. pecking
at what they think is dead.
sure,
I haven't moved
in a while.
eaten or slept
in days.
and yes, i'm lying
prone
in a dry blank field
of cut
hay,
but i'm not dead yet.
so let them
peck, let them
find out the hard
way
of what's to come
when I arise.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment