They found it tethered by the wall,
Its eyes bleeding impotent fury,
Its thunderous growl just audible,
In the bitter cud of consciousness.
A red eyed devil looming over you,
In a stench of blind indifference.
They found you, all tangled up in knots,
A mess of broken wings, tattered feathers,
Whispering some song of anguish,
Tearing at slipped down slithers of soul,
Slowly, slowly, breaking down;
Until nothing remained
Save for a serene absence of will.
John Stocks
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