Feed The Dogs

They screeched their calls, clawed at the ground whipping as if a broken dog, they stood above the floor, yet they cast gaze up to see it, the limping corpse had fallen, it's compressed body was shackled into itself. They engrossed themselves gorging upon the limping thing's arms and legs, had been left to decay they starved until now. Now when the two sing, they ring their chimes of grief, the screech of a broken old dog and his inconstant, incandescent whimpering. Upon the gaze of the limping thing's eye, they do nothing but scream, scream like a child's nightmare witnessing the trial of their bogey. The head of the limping was compressed that through it be the very same, that they would be gorging upon it, if it hadn't the limping's eye. The blood of a kin, a mouth so red it revolves to crimson, it corrodes on their teeth, a scar so stained.