bigger threats
bigger threats poems stories

crabchips they/them
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
i wasn't born in this little town. no, i was born in a village far, far away from here.
i don't think i should speak of it.

bigger threats

beyond this village, down a path so rocky

and rigid, there is another.

the ground itself was cursed by hands that pretended to be holy.

pale faces with wide eyes watch you.

they carry rotting meat in their bony hands.

dead deer pick themselves off of the road

and drag their decaying bodies back into the forest.

a lamb with seven eyes looks out into the fields,

and digs its teeth into the carcass of a cow.

ignorance was never bliss.

a child of an angel sees the forest as a welcoming mother.

now, that child has fallen and has grown their horns.

they see the forest as a gateway to the underworld.

the cults praise in the name of god,

but who is god? was there ever a god here?

if there is one, then may i ask,

why does this village exist? why is it anchored to the dead soil?

the demon child managed to escape, the scars of the damned still on their neck.

they are the only exception.

i think they disobeyed them.

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