eyes that sting under

a baleful sun whose

light is bent by

the azure blanket that

buries you with life.

The cries of despondence

are stolen away by

the will of natural

selection as the strengths

of what makes us

unique is your undoing.

The cold is numbing

lulling muscles to sleep

as if they were

never used for anything

beyond survival and lust.

Time is running short

so fill your burning

lungs with blackened fear

and face a liquid

prison of your dawn

as onlookers lose sight

of the mute one

who learned to speak

in circumstances most dire.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

for ashes silent screams

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