I.
I see pain
the elderly ones in child's bodies
reaching out for sustenance
from those who can give but don't.
I see pain.
II.
I hear agony.
Wails of a baby wanting
needing love
neglected for so long
and told to become something else.
I hear agony.
III.
I smell death.
Stagnant air filling my nostrils,
the bodies of the precious
must lay here.
But surely they may be ignored
one day longer.
I smell death.
IV.
I taste blood.
Cliched vampiric lust? No.
But the life of those I could not save
courses through me now.
Is it theirs or
is it mine?
I taste blood.
V.
I feel nothing.
Not anymore, for
is there a point to surprises
when you know what is to come?
Is there a point to building
when in the end all that is left
is a pile of nothing?
I feel nothing.
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