The Wild Things

silently she lays in the dark

pulling away at the threads

carelessly choking the sparks

spinning round in her head

tears the scabs from the wounds

to remind she's alive

her body the tomb

that she uses to hide

from the wolves at the door

scratching scars on the wall

voices begging inside

trying hard to implore

her to smother the hate

and the life that it gives

though she tries to create

it's the demons that live

taking charge of her fate

and the choices she makes

while the ravens outside

collectively gather on the gate

and they call out to her

to gather her feathers

and when she's collected them all

they will fly off together

shedding her skin

and the weight of her pain

leaning into her ear, softly whispering

it will all be alright, it will all be okay

if you destroy the human within

causing all this decay

but you must do it now

they all seem to murmur

until she's screaming out loud

I'm not here, I've been "murdered"

There is nothing left

but some clothing and feathers

what did you expect?

birds and such, flock together....