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Poetic T Apr 22
Lucid eyes gaze at you deeply,
not just one, but the attention
of another. Then another,
till onyx eyes follow your
every movement, mimicking
                 your head gestures.

These little clouds of white,
    like a breeze surround you.
But what started of as a gathering
soon became a mob mentality.
As they hurry around you a
hurricane of nibbles upon your being.

As white becomes crimson, it would
look pretty if not for your blood painting
on the canvass of there appetite.
You try to scream out, but as you raise
your hand in desperation. One after another
they consume digits. And screams are
muffled out by there herd of ear piercing
                                            Bbaaaaaaaaaaaaa's.

­The circle of life has a funny way of coming
around, as they clean each other all that's left
is a stain, quickly dissipated with multiple
fluffiness walking over as they ***...
    What was a ink blot on the field now just
a hue on the blades no one being the wiser.

Then later another walker, brave and daring
walks unrespecting, and this one isn't as
skinny as breakfast.. Lunch is served.
As they smile sweetly, the walker says
          Bbaaaaaaaaaaa….

Oh dearie me..
             this isn't going to end well me thinks..

— The End —