the bullets i carry // chicken scratches

i cradle festering wounds because don't i have to?
at the end of the day,
i was the one who filled myself with
a some kind of rot that
can only be fixed by
clambering over barbed wire and
begging please, please don't let me go on like this

i carry the bullets that should've
been theirs because god knows
that they should've went more
peacefully than they did
the blood i choke up means nothing
compared to what i could have
spared them from

[29.09.2024]