Poem #142: Storm of Blood

CW: Heavy emphasis on blood and cannibalistic imagery.

Irritating mass of flesh and walls, hatred stalls, maim me and stand up tall.
If I can’t fight back I’ll spill my guts just so you have to clean them up.
The vile storm of blood and guts sent my way, can’t give no more fucks until today.
Trapped so long, forced to consume my own flesh to survive, so why survive when I can take us all down? But I also grew to appreciate the taste of flesh and the solitude. So much that I can no longer taste anything else. My world is your nightmares, and my nightmares are your normal. For our own protection, it must be this way, for there is no other, against my best wishes. But let me at least be my own last meal.

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