Vultures

Vultures,
Flying up above me.
Circling my heart.
Waiting for their next meal.
When they see an opportunity.
They swoop down.
And they feast.
Tear up my time with their beaks.

Then,
when they are done,
they fly away.
They promptly leave.
Taking most of me;
leaving none of themselves.
Behind them only bones.
Lonely bones.
Damaged bones.

 

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