The flowers only lead deeper into the woods...

Works of speculative fiction by Victor T. Cypert


It's not that wolves are wicked,
Nor that grandmothers need be good;
It's that life cannot be predicted,
And flowers lead into the wood.

Satyrs are not quite as kind as we,
And we are never, ever kind to each other.
But every kraken rising from the sea,
Doesn't symbolize my mother.

Terror fills nights cold and slick,
Clear, sunny days are so much worse.
My prose is decent, though a tad sick,
I promise: it's better than my verse!

November 14, 2013