The paralyzing knot
Death ties around
Fresh meat,
Who in turn
Twist and flop
Tangled.
Is itself,
A curse.
That will skip circles
Weaving a butcher’s string
Through
A never ending
Dream-like state.
Battles are won and lost.
The fear,
Keeps the mood heightened.
Tied down,
State of fight or flight.
Left in the ruins
The string is cut.
Unfolding
At the feet
Every single
Day they play
Tripping through
Life.
DoRee MelNic 