The Bucket is Full

Rawness
Intestines spilling out
An unbeating heart
A corpse of a dream
Butchered
The last drop of a blood in a bucket
Signaling the knife
A mess of steel and death
The carapace, discarded
The skin, hung to dry
The meat, processed
The bones, saved for broth
Ravenously we hunger for more

-k.r.r.

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *