Nothing to think for,
at this moment. Faceless fears-
like pine needles,
prick the toes in walk.

You cannot-
collect the white roses
in blue rains.

You remember precisely, a toothless-
poised tiger. The prey
tied to a pole gives a
long whimper, before being mauled.

The game continues. You
cannot do anything. Violence was
real, the pen becomes the
weapon.

You start drawing vultures.