Darkness. Outside of our home.
In the hearts of many. Going from door to door.
Hunting the divergent.
Their boundless lies ensnare the truth.
Snuffing the light of day.
night shifts to days.
Days to years.
We hide in our woolen blankets;
praying for strength. Strength only found in infirmity.
Our humanness; our solidity only in our differences.
with the lingering of the horizon

“She lives here,” I yell to the huntsman