No.
We Rally.
Us -roken//attered.
We solitary wildlings of the woods.
Baskets in my arms.
Grins upon my faces.
All of them.
Skittering Quickly;
‘Ere Not At All.
Freeze.
Silent Sans A Breath.
Just A Cold Sucking Entropy,
Upon The Soul.
Poison.
From touching your soul,
Too deeply into mine.
Curs-ed.
Skittering Quickly; ‘Ere Not At All.
