sexta-feira, 23 de janeiro de 2026

Freshborn on the prairie

How did I get here
I once felt powerful and spry
Now I look at the blueness in fear
Within the brightness of the sky
 
Stripped of cunning and physique 
Left like a freshborn on the plain
half an hour from sharpened beaks
marinating in afterbirth and pain

Stripped of my certainties
my direction and vocation
I struggle to rise successfully
I steady my trembling in frustration

I sense the disdain of the herds
How they frown at me the aberration
They shun and invite predatory birds
Am I an abomination

Will the sheperd collect me at last
As he did my brothers and sisters
Will I be abandoned on the sea of grass
Am I even a lamb in this morning mist

Or is this fur that surrounds me of the wolf
In which case must I run for the trees
It appears I am no lamb or calf
Hunger and turmoil consume me

I must long for the aggression of the hunt
For the biting teeth and bloody chin 
It seems a foul lie, alas I am the runt
The insight wild, brutal... sudden




 

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