The Forest of
Appalachia A forest, a home, a body, a being Infested with things you will never understand Itâs a heart, rip it open, feel it pulsing Crush its muscles between your hands If you see something, hear something It was just a dream, youâre fine Donât repeat what you saw, it wasnât real Donât address it, ignore it, youâre crazy, youâre lying The soul of Appalachia, the heart of the woods You donât know what youâll find Donât walk through the tender forests at night Youâll lose your life, or just your mind The body walking to you is not your lover Run as far and as fast as you can Feel its skin, itâs too cold to be theirs Kill it with nothing but your bare hands Marshal Acquaroli, 12 rhymed verse
Hands in Blood
Alua Tazhbayeva, 11 digital art
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