The Flesh And Predators

The Flesh And Predators

Not qualified,
to seek the right to live
on your terms.

I am ready
to drink from the poisoned
cup of hemlock.

Purple spotted twilight is―
carrying the dead sun
on shoulders, I tremble―

writing the history.
Each pebble was a pathfinder.
I bow down to salute the sea.

I don't agree
to make you different, what
you are not.

The essence will
not spill, till you throw
your fears on the road.