wildlife

and the wildlife was hunted not for heart but the hide, to warm the bones of cowards that were left behind, and the lotus wilts with the guilt of the wasted time, what does it say about the ones who never even tried, under constant pressure, diamonds in the rough, only way to light is fighting through the dirt, born into such a cruel, cruel world, survival can be such a cruel, cruel curse, best of intentions will grow horns in sleep, without a sense of purpose outside the dream, and our wounds are so noble but still we must see, there may not be answers in the reasons that we bleed, preciously violent, beautifully abhorrent