a little blood?
well, what did you expect?
every birth is an act of violence
life is bloody, beautiful and short
at night we lay us down to rest
in the morning we shed our dreams
and take our place on the treadmill
the dreadful work begins again
bloody ankles and deadly smiles
men fall as the leaves fall
each is whittled into nothing
by the relentless mechanism
of commercial necessity
an unseen hand wields a final blade
we are enfolded in black wings
and ferried across dark waters
out into the nevermore
.
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