When The Blood Ran Black

The Feathered Man

There is a man
who leaves a trail of feathers.
Dark, coarse feathers.
Feathers so sharp that when the boy picked them up,
his hands came back bloodied and scarred.
This man tried to run,
run so fast in an attempt to save that small boy,
to save him from his trail.
But he couldn't.
Because that boy had a brother.
And those brothers ran faster.
But they had no shoes,
and when they caught up with him,
their souls had bled red feet next to the black.
But the boys,
they didn't care.
They had the man and the man was safe.
But he didn't feel safe,
for the man saw the feet.
He cried that they were so easily breakable,
that they wouldn't stop chasing him despite their torture.
So he didn't run again,
he walked beside them so they wouldn't bleed.
And he grew to love the two boys.
Hazel and green,
brown and blond,
laughter and smirks.
But there is an end to all things,
and his trail of feathers would walk away
from two smoking pyres.
Because in the end,
the feathered man wasn't human.