motion. | completed

minus eighteen

in this broken world
when we see the
innocent;
the good,
those with pure
hearts and the quietest
of souls;

a flower, a
beacon of light

we, the cruel
the predators
the hunters,
we pounce upon them
and feed off their worth,
their whiteness filling
our blackness
with no grey in between.

i like to think that
i am the flower,
[though not pure]
and you are the
predator.
when you saw me;
innocent and
naive:

you pounced upon
my [existent?] goodwill
and you sunk your

fangsteethclawsnails

into my new
skin.

and i let you

p o i s o n

me.