K A L O P S I A

THIRTY - ONE

The little nightingale
was dying inside
she could feel her veins
cry out
with the weight of her blood

Her bones creaked in protest
at the lack of oxygen

She was sitting on a cliff
unable to fly
being forced into the fathomless depths

She would prefer
if the snake had just
wrapped it's slithery body around hers
and squeezed out the life

Or injected her poisoned wings
with even more venom
enough to dissolve her body

She would prefer the piercing fangs
driving into her arteries
prefer the strangulation

Anything

Anything to die
she wanted to die
not for him
she didn't want to die for him anymore

No

She wanted to die for herself
but it was too late to claim
her life back again

Her life was not her own
and it was all too late to claim it back

Too late to die for herself
she had allowed the monster
to take her soul
in life and death