the season for gathering young women happens every nightfall, sometimes every spring.
a natural period, weeding out ripe smiles to see which girl will be good to eat.
the girls don't know this yet they assume they do.
when did they figure it out?
when they were hunted down?
feed lies and sickly sweets?
by a hook or a crook, the means blend with the blood, ribs, and torso bare, grimy hands planted into the skin, tearing a muscle, stealing innocence.
these girls still come out sparkling, with bones that don't break.
sad how all girls somehow, no matter how little or how small suffer this fate.
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Screaming Into The Void
Poetry#1 in poetry :) #1 in free verse :) Have you ever felt like it was the end? Like today was just a bad day? That no matter how many times you believe that something can happen that it just might not? That no one gives a damn at all? That all you do...
