Performance Poem: Dragonwort

They can taste you. They are grasping hands And open mouths. They were born in the Dreaming Whispers of nameless (One might say childish) fears You thought no longer plagued you. They are hungry And many And alone, Each finger/talon/claw rending your flesh Searching for a soul Seeking truths You are power here, So full of knowledge
That satisfies for Less
Than a moment. They can be remade Just need one more answer Just one more shattered knuckle bone, Just one more fire to chase away the shadows. Didn’t you know? Livers make the best kindling

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