The Nestling

It’s time to get up, now

my black eyed child.

Time to see the world.

 

Out of bed,

and out the door.

You will see, for sure,

that what you always knew to be

is an illusion.

 

You were taught

words of water,

thoughts of wind,

and tools of clay.

Here, you’ll learn

that all of that

is washed away,

and only blood

stains deep enough

to last a day.

 

You’ll grow used

to the feel

of steel in your hand,

and it will be

and extension of you will.

 

The vain corruptors,

that set up all the rules,

let you know

right away

if you do wrong.

 

Soon,

you’ll know the songs

normalizing self harm,

and preaching their words.

 

Permanently carved scars,

that never really heal;

they only fade a little,

and ache

when the weather changes.

 

Time to rise and shine.

not too bright, now.

You don’t want to be seen

at night.

 

Come now,

don’t look surprised.

You didn’t think

that we were really

all that civilized?

 

It was all a lie.

The world is still wild.

My black eyed child;

see what we

have left you?

 

 

HG – 2020

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