Like any weak animal, we've barricaded ourselves with uncertainty and excuses. We try to hide off the rot and show off the innocence we stole. it was hunting season when we screamed with our whole bodies and tried to pierce our backbones with antlers. Like any starving animal, we feasted on our desire for change and scavenged our flaws carved into our organs. It was too late when we realized that we were made of unethically sourced flesh and that our instincts would soon drive us to Hell. Like any sick animal, they've covered our whining mouths and dissected us up on the table. Our body is a rule book bound in red warmth and false taxonomy. Our stomach is two parts warm wood, three parts thyme and five liters of salt water. Like any dying animal, we've lost our appetite and allowed the foxes and the sinners to put us to bed. On the death of May, we kissed our scars, spoke of roadkill, and came running back to grief as if it were the only home we've ever had. When you feel like a scared animal, remember that you are a scared animal.
I haven't checked grammer yet... (ب_ب)...... my longest poem yet....I think? two pages babyyyyyyy yoooo this is Izzy's bday poem don't show her Xela (that's just awkward)
