Feast on her flesh, devour her light
Spit out the seeds and laugh at the fading echos of the cries for mercy
As I have done with countless others before
But she turned her eyes upon me
And in them—a compassion most foul
She offered her flesh, her light, her Soul—as a gift, she said, that might ease my pain, if even
only for a moment
I turned and fled in horror
Written Content G.A.M. cc
Death Chrisharvey
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