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Yours *TrulyJuly*

I do everything content.

When life writes stories.

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Like a vulture he appears out of nowhere, as if he’d come by a scent while passing.

In broad daylight he descents, his sharp eyes scanning the area for prey.

Well equipped for this occasion he goes about scavenging on the cost of another’s life.

 

It happens quick: Only the most valuable pieces are picked.

At the blink of an eyelid he’s gone, and you wonder: Was he really here or am I wrong?

 

But the impact becomes clear, as soon as the owners appear.

What little they had, they have no more. Now they’re even poorer than before.

 

Dreams are smashed, hopes evaporate. Then they turn numb after the initial hate.

They pack the few things left all together tight, and the next day they leave the site.

 

And then happens what no-one expected: The vulture comes back!

Oblivious to the tragedy he’s causing, he cleans up nicely what is left.

With purpose he walks straight to where treasure lies.

Down he goes to scavenge:
With one swipe the nest that someone else calls home is undone. His claws run through that someone’s belongings. With judging eyes he discards what is of no use to him.

Nothing much left.
He rummages and forages but it seems he’s run out of luck.

He wanders off, scratching his bum with the hand that carries the toothbrush he just stole.

 

 

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