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~ By Courtesy of Others ~

 

Marked

I dream of raven wings,
of the sound of hoofbeats
echoing through the dark,
a shadow swooping down
leaving me no escape,
I turn to face a spear
pointed straight at my heart
and prepare for my fate.
The blade cuts into flesh
but does not spill heart-blood -
not today, no, not yet -
satisfied now to carve
a mark through skin and pain
down to my very soul,
and whirl away again
to leave me standing there
anticipating the
final, fatal thrust that
I know now awaits me.
 M. C. Daimler

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