men leave trails of breadcrumbs
goading you to follow just a little.
foolish young women, who see just enough bread
to feed them a day, stay a life.
but bread doesn’t feed the soul.
fighting over meat, eat;
strange how bread runs faster than blood
two racing down the same track,
but finish in very different ways.
even after a while,
thick blood flows away.
draining all the bread,
leaving nothing but a trail
for you to follow again.
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