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Darkened Version.jpg
spoils.jpg

You tore the throat out of my world, left the bones to gather moss.

It never saw you coming. We studied from afar, nearly half our life, learned its grace and power. Watched in awe as it grew in stature and fostered its young. But you had to encroach on its domain. You rowed your boats to its shores and stood in hiding while your prey waded through muck. We protected it, marveled in its graces, but you robbed us of it so you could tell the tale.

You spent more time sharpening your spears than considering where they might land.

You saw your moment, jumped at the first chance to make something of your pitiful name. White knuckles gripped tightly to the only self you've ever known as it plunged upon an unsuspecting target. You stood over it as it trembled, stroking your ego as crimson flooded the mud. Your cowardly lips parted, revealing crooked teeth all-to-eager to touch its flesh.

You left the spoils of your pursuit to wither away while you galavanted in search of praise.

And no doubt you drank to your "victory," raised a cheerful glass to a robbery of life. Threw a feast to honor the takedown of a creature you left to rot. Your "hunt" will be remembered for longer than your name will bear weight. One day you'll write songs of a battle not even fought.

When the snake is at your feet, can you see the fangs through the clouds?



 

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