Wolf and the Owl
Poetry, Lyrics, Translations
and Musings by Alex Etchart

Feather Hands, Scissor Heart

By on Thursday 12th September, 2013

Feather hands, scissor heart
Forever doomed to tear apart
The soft and pure who stray too near
Sucks them in out of desperate fear
Of never feeling a word called ‘love’
Caresses the hobbling hurt-wing dove
And if deemed to have a worthy crest
Presses it against his chest
Whence upon the metal blades
Begin to crush, the whiteness fades
To black, to pulp, to blood and guts
And if it escapes it’s a tangle of cuts

Twinkle eyes, assassin’s guise
Entice you in to deal in lies
The game however make believe
Keeps you guessing what’s up his sleeve
You knew the rules, you entered still
So when the ruler goes for the kill
You’ve nought but yourself to blame
Transmuting all your pain to shame
And lame you leave the labyrinth
All that’s left of you a commemorative plinth
And by the time you crawl away to barely live
The master has found a new toy to play with

Blog owner, singing/strumming person, word speaker, community arts make-happen-er, eco-baby.


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