I wrote this a while ago, I may have already shared it. I don't think I considered it complete at the time and so there is no title. Here it is in all its graphic strangeness:
You exist on the scraps of my soul,
Feeding hungrily on the carnage that was me,
Like a wolf ravenously devouring the remnants of kill,
You have so bathed in the blood of my death.
What I was, what I could have been,
I am but a shadow,
A fragment of bone in the grass that was once a majestic and prized pelt.
The whispered rumors of strength and beauty are all that remain.
You have stolen the future.