Dead flies buzz, reanimated with rage...
Or the common sickness of this age.
It swirls and churns deep in our gut
Cutting life short and giving us a useless shortcut
To a black, lightless world
With once-reaching hands dead, fingers curled.
____________________________________
Time snickering in its rhythmic snap comes and goes
As do the people with their deep, unending woes.
But the dead things still strive
To head back to the dilapidated hive
And we are left with shadowed, empty flats
Filled with bloody flies and dead cats.
You can't kill what won't die
So look up to the sky
And cry, cry, cry.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Writer of the dark! Think of it like flipping rocks, the weird little stories underneath are my jam and jelly. Jam and butter? Just jam. Absolutely no use of AI in any of my works :)
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
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