🌟 Sardonic laughter, well-fed loss.
clutching at the blanket from the ground, taking out the knotted cries
of flight to a better life is isolation for the good, but for whom?
What does death smell like?
in the hollow cage of the chest, the enormity
of exclusivity glows,
in a year it has become emaciated and withered,
the victims fade against the background of triumph, every master's breath and
every slave's exhalation will dry up.