There again,
It makes us mindful —
Like daily bread,
Teeth bared
Against the bright-eyed
Mechanical beast
They could not flee
Or frighten away.

Fight and flight —
In the face
Of such weight and speed.
We believe our minds broader,
But we are delusional,
And these —
These wounds
Are self-inflicted.

Quick glance
Into unseeing eyes,
Like a mirror reflection.
And no matter how
I snarl or howl
In protest —
It always overtakes me, too.

So weep for us —
Because what chance do we have
When the carrion eaters
Are already circling,
Anticipating the feast?


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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