corvus_pdx

What is the world.
We run hither and yon... Like busy mice, struggling for crumbs of bread.
What do we see of beauty?
Where is the warmth that we seek?
Does fate smile down on us?
Or do we struggle in vain?
Fast we hold to those we call 'friend'.
Until they want our crumbs more than their own.
Is this simply a graveyard piling on masses of bones?
Friends tearing flesh, when their own is failing?
I would share my crumbs with you.
Would you eat my flesh instead?