Cones and rods
Bent and twisted
Vision contorted by words not your own
Bright and beautiful
Sweet and warm
Anything good was just a shell for their pain
Though bodys removed
Echoes remain
The poison killing what healthy may come
In a pit of snakes
A honey badger fights
Somedays he wins and others he must rest
Will the end come?
Or will all be in vain?
It’s up to the demons not me
Poison Echoes
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