It wasn't a fairy tale,
or a novel.
No, it was an escape route.

All she ever knew to do was to hide;
Wrapping herself in thin paper sheets,
red ink dribbled from her throat, staining them.


A small quiver

A silent plea

A hot tear.


▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Available



•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

For I rather get shot then see the world rot.