By Toni G.
Beautiful things are often damaged,
said the suicidal peacock one
sunless afternoon. The beauty of my
feathers camouflage my brokenness,
helps me to hide my demented mind.
I sat nodding my head in agreement,
not actually listening to his words for
his beauty had blinded me, and I ached
to devour him, feather by spectacular feather.
Toni G. writes because there’s just so much that needs to be said.