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Thirteen Rabbits

misfortune dwelled in their
shattered souls
beneath a dry,
hollow, and dull
Oaktree
they lived
as if they lived with Death herself
thirteen broken souls
wandering endlessly in a sea of gray
fog and mist
of tears and blood.
plague befell them, and the first of thirteen
dropped dead in her bed
limp and lifeless, her sisters found
a cold corpse contemplating them
the putrid stench of a decaying body
defiled their soft, pink noses.
Grief saw
an opportunity:
The second and third
were consumed by fear
turned against each other
and a drop of scarlet
stained the soft dirt of the hole
as the second of thirteen,
took her last breath
the third of thirteen, consumed by guilt,
fell like a withered leaf
crumbling against the trodden ground
forgotten like dust in the wind
the fourth said,
“they’re dropping like flies”
and indeed they were
a tiny black figure
stalked the fourth, and landed on her
soft, long, ears.
its deathly poison seeped into her veins,
as the foul vessel of Death flew away
searching for another victim.
the fourth of thirteen
shrieked in agony
crying so painfully
it shook the heavens.
at last, she lay
on the dirt, soaked in blood and tears
she lay where her sister once lay
her final resting place.
the fifth watched her sisters in horror
as four of her sisters departed from this world
to see a new beginning.
the fifth, crying, said to herself,
“are they not worth fighting for?”
so she picked up a wooden stick
and ended her pain
with the sharp, stony edge of
the arrow.
the archer fell, limp and lifeless
just like her four other sisters.
the younger of the thirteen watched in horror
like innocent little girls at a horror movie
harassed by death’s cackling
the sixth, seventh, and eighth of the thirteen
prepared a tiny grave
five tiny graves, standing in a row
and five limp bodies
sleeping underneath.
the sixth dug, while the seventh buried
the eighth sobbed in despair
before immolating herself in the flames of
Death
the sixth and seventh, torn by grief
of the death of their little sister
looked at each other, and nodded
before diving into the little river
and disappearing into the voids of their hearts
devoured by the water
the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth,
the youngest of them all
made a silent vow
to never speak again.
to eliminate all pains and desires
to end all grief, and scrub away any traces of
Sublime emotion.
so they disappeared into the shrubs,
enveloped by the whispers of despair
And were never to be seen again
finally, the thirteenth
taunted by death, cried
and cried
for her sisters to return
every day she waited
by the stream, under her Oaktree
waiting for her sisters to return to her arms
caught in an endless cycle of grief
eternally tormented by Death.