fighting for survival
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This world is survival of the fittest and I don't think I'm the biggest just a lowley rabbit running from a wolf waiting because I know I'm not the grimmest
Autumn dies and the cold dark wind blows once more The panther rises and the shadows again is graced The leaves drop and a desire is born A light birth now shall it be buried
A situation of dire need and stress On a deserted island a man is found as a mess He has nothing neither here nor there Except a ragged old book he has as spritual fare Should he read such a despised old text?
The bleeding gives language to a Pain I can't place words on. So deep I can't feel it I've become it. It both consumes me and has composed me And I am devoured by my own teeth.