This early morn

In a fragment of a dream

Called to mind

Soon forgotten

The owl returned


Gave me a backward glance

Then flew away


The mischief was done

The august silent

Slayer of the darkness

In an instant

Stole my eyes

Left me with just

Vacant sockets


I could still feel

Smell and hear

And think

But no longer could I see


Fumbling for my blind destiny

I died upon a

Pine forest floor

A carpet of

Razor sharp

Charity shop

Cast off cones

My mattress

The circle of

Salivating wolves

My pallbearers


The Succubus read

My eulogy

She told lie after lie

A demented cackle

It mattered not

Only the moon mourned my passing


I knew this would happen

The day the owl returned


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