Branches of the trees don a rusted palette,
The sharp air prickles throats,
River water glimmers as it reflects the sky, turning to steel,
It is time.
For too long I have slept in my bed of warm earth,
Nature’s course has completed and in a swift slice
I am cut away, singular and alone,
Teetering on the bridge between growth and decay.
Thrust into uncertainty and left in the dark,
I wonder where life will take me,
Then I hear a tap, tap, tapping at the edge of my mind,
Like a visitor requesting entry.
In a flash of searing agony a blade digs into my skull,
The tapping becomes sawing, back and forth, methodically cutting,
My skin falls in serrated shreds,
My guts are removed in a seed-splattering swiftness.
My hollow body is inspected and turned in unknown hands,
A steady knife mutilates my soul,
Carving deep lines into my orange pulp,
To sculpt an unfamiliar face.
As I gaze out from triangular eyes,
I feel a light within flicker and twirl,
And letting out a smiling sigh,
I reveal my wicked face to the world.
Lead image: Pixabay