A vulture,
Slowly circling his prey,
Circling me.
Far overhead,
But slowly, slowly
Getting closer,
Waiting for my final moment,
My final weakness.
Cowering over the lifelessness
Of a withered body,
Hurt from the elements
That the vulture himself caused.

The hard, coarse sand
Beneath the weathered, weakened body,
Doesn’t seem much different,
Than the warm soft bed
I used to love.
The once comforting sun,
Beating down,
Like the long forgotten nightlight,
Buried in my closet
That never helped any fears.

The vulture gets closer,
The body giving up any chance
Of winning.