The Fires of Revolution

Hungover Poetry - Entry 2

Written the morning after the summer soltice

Scribbled on the second page of a small, poorly bound pocket journal.

Galtan Gals last night were churning,
Gathered close for Desna’s feast.
Starsong’s light saw them gathered,
Drinking, singing without cease.

A Galtan Gal last night was burning,
Lashed and labeled as a beast.
Starsong’s light saw her writhing,
And watched until she had deceased.


Emptus Ghandi

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