In a world of bloated black trees
And great rubbery flowers
She walks,
And the wind does not stir so much as speak.
It is in this world that she
Was almost consumed by the carnivorous
Plants and
Voices that come up out of cracks in the ground.
People wear their souls in their faces,
And her face has become
Hardened,
The eyes flaming; and now she listens to metal.
Once she knew life is suffering.
Now she knows life is suffering.
yvilorsfantasyfiction 