Blinding the survivors,
Biting into the orange twilight,
A beastly, new moon night,
Slowly engulfed a beautiful dusk.
He didn’t live his twilight.
But ferocious ‘it” was,
It never listened.
What remained were just ‘his’ traces,
And a satisfied beast.
Left him breathing,
Killed his life.
Scar-less body survived the massacre.
The topic this week at writer’s island is “ferocious“.
Also the other prompt this week is identity, I had written some on the same subject before, thought of providing the link, guys please do check them out