Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears―
like pine needles,
prick the toes in walk.
You cannot―
collect the white roses
in blue rains.
You remember precisely, a toothless―
poised tiger. The prey
tied to a pole gives a
long whimper, before being mauled.
The game continues. You
cannot do anything. Violence was
real, the pen becomes the
weapon.
You start drawing vultures.