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Strage
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Clots
Clots
Sometimes we wish we'll become immortal
But our blood clots in ways we will never understand
And flows through bones and marrow
Until we find what we're looking for
Or we find what we need
Either way
The clots find the bones eventually
And everything snaps
Your skeleton will expand to the size of your God
…Or maybe it just feels that way
Doctors will flock and witches will frolic in your shade,
sidestepping the sunlight exposed throughout your rib cage
For that is where you place someone's Sun when you eclipse it
And your worshipers will collect what's left of your bones
And sell them in the market next season for a bag of rose petals and copper coins
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