The 61st Fire: A Tale of Instinct

in #writinglast year

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It is said that existence before civilization was like running on the edge of a razor. One mistake could mean the end of life, quickly and with no mercy. We have grown soft, all of us. When the end comes, as it does, remember that the flames are a just judge, dealing the appropriate punishment.

Hunger

The blood flows warmly, the moon shines brightly. I now hunger for more.

Nameless shape calls to restrain but I hunger for more.

Pain comes with me, try to flee, but you die before me because still I call for more.

Guts fly free and full to be yet still I thirst for more.

Please don’t cry, let me help you see what’s inside of you, quenching this ache for more.

The tearing and gnashing, the spilling and splashing from the roof to the floor.

What you see before you, never believe you, that the end has come cruelly and cold.

And from this slay, I sleep the day, until I hunger for more.