The wounded sit in the sun

Applying salt and balms to wounds and to the leaches that puncture and drain and suck and creep

Removing them one by one

They are careful to find them all.

Those black worms that stretched themselves above the mire and down from wet leaves so they could launch and latch onto the warm blooded

They hide from the blazing sun as they lay in wait for the clouds and fog to impede the vision of their victims

The innocent thrash blindly and fearfully through the undergrowth

They may as well have waved a flag and harnessed themselves to a target

The enemy simply lay in wait

I remind myself to have patience and compassion for the innocent. They are the blind and the walking wounded

They shall see when they are ready

They shall heal after the firing squads have emptied their barrels and the Vampires have had their fill.



Eloquence and space will be required

For the innocent foolishly stumble through the mire and damp leaves that are laden with vampiric worms that would rather consume their victims as they live because they are impatient for their timely deaths.

They seek desperately with drooling mouths without care or compassion or kindness.

Their desires are for themselves only

Their victims discarded after they have had their fill

They seek out and return, only once the hunger reminds them that sustenance is required once again.

They hide from the sun and lie in wait for the fog.

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