As the crone stretches her arms out she smacks her lips together. She feels the aches and pains in each joint and studies the etched lines in her skin
Our eyes lock, you watch the fear in my eyes grow until each eyeball bulges, detaching from its socket, the optic nerve holds for a moment snaps & it tumbles, hitting the earth creating a small cloud of dust
I had no idea the price of a life nor how wrong I was, for I did not see the Nazgul in its true form, to the point where I wished for death
Shock waves from trauma and fear echo throughout time
I’d like to have it tied to the trunk as something I happen to gaze at in my rear view mirror while I extend the middle finger.
Coughing up lungs, slaying dragons, riding the jellies and crashing into trees
Reflecting on Booktube, Bearded Lady’s & Prairie Raven