Hedonistic desire.
A lamb to the slaughter.
You speak and all we hear are ritual curses.
A birthright you inherited from your father.
Speaking in tongues.
Licking up flames.
Wearing the face of a wolf. All sharp teeth and bloody claws.
Howling at an empty night sky.
Soft wool and soft throat.
Shaking limbs.
A pack or a herd, of which you belong to neither.
Which face is yours? Do you even have one?
Is it just your fathers?
His canines. His claws. His echoing howl.
A creature you wish you knew how to bury.
A mere sheep in wolfs clothing.
All shaking limbs and blood stained fleece.
Your method of survival is killing you,
and it's killing me too...
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
PoetryI write to cope with life, so maybe this might help someone else cope too, idk. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation, S/A, and Abuse. There's not many mentions of them directly as this is more about my emotions and moments of reflection, all neatl...
