Around me hung
on every hand
my organic threads thrive!
a richly green.
But a Huntsman’s chill lingers.
Nipping winds, like feral hounds
Crave! to strip me
from my
form.
My bones rattle with every howl.
Their breath bleaches my skin;
watch it crumble and crack!
My beauty
my pride
bares stains no rain could wash.
They shrivel and fall.
Peeling, flaking, tumbling to the ground;
The hounds howl again.
The sun has crossed to Elysium;
and the surrogate has seized the throne.
No,
Please!
Boreas, have mercy!
But it is too late.
I am naked
and I grow tired;
I grow weak.
About the Creator
Rae Janney
A Behavioral Neuroscience major with a passion for writing. My predominant writing style is surreal poetry, and most of my pieces touch upon mental health- TW included. My goal with my writing to end the stigma of mental illness.
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