She's got collarbones set to be broken.

Set to the side of her little neck,

looking up at her hunched shoulders,

they feed.

Feasting on her skin,

dark hollows under their shelter.

"Feed."

They whisper in her head,

they need to be deeper.

The longer they beg,

the more skin she sacrifices.

"Feed us,

Don't you love us?

If you loved us,

You would let us feed.

We're getting bigger,

you can't have that.

Now can you?"

No,

they can't grow.

What a bad mother,

allowing them to do so.

I'm sorry,

my dear children,

She whispers.

For she has been feeding as well,

allowing her scale to stare at her,

following her with disgust.

Now all her children are anguished,

growing and starving.

"We musn't grow!"

They shout,

"For mama has done so much for us."

Against their will they rise,

filling out the dents in her skin.

While she cries over them,

damning them to hell.

"Feed,

we must be smaller."

Dents between the ribs.

gaps between the thighs.

Twigs for arms;

sticks for legs.

And hollows beneath her collarbone.

Bones weigh too much,

crush them under your skin.

Spit them out,

and devour them again.

Author's Note

Reviews are lovely, my dears. Drop one by?

Reviews

[Short.Nerd]

Nice!