Two bodies.
Barely enough to actually
be called bodies.
Shreds of a human to
match our shreds of humanity.
“I think I knew
them.”
How could he?
One was nothing more than
an arm, a shattered, imploded skull.
A tattoo. A familiar tattoo.
A rose with the letter M
in the center of the bloom.
Two hands clutching, the
one with the tattoo was male, the other, female. A gold band was left on her
finger.
I knew them.
Two of many, now
gone. Are numbers grow fewer, and our
ability to survive, to fight back, grows even harder.
Sometimes I wonder why I
even bother to fight.
It would be so easy to
wander outside at night, to let the things take me.
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