The Dinosaur

Written by: Confetti of Flesh

Hide,
Scorched like gauze
Moving slowely and surefooted

A path no longer blazed yet
Bridges behind still burn

An opening,
A thousand eyes turn to stare
Fruitless in its search,
Faces no longer there

Disgruntled and aged
Grown shorter in its decline

The Dinosaur walks out of the 
forest,
Onto the edge of time.