Wings of Decomposition: The Human Cocoon

It was not a disease. It was not an invasion. It was a harvest.It started with a smell. Then a stain on his chest. Then the terrifying realization: every dark thought, every guilt, every buried fear — all of it served as food. For years. Silently.What grew inside him was not a tumor. It was a promise. And when it no longer fit inside the shell that had housed it since birth…it opened.It will not be beautiful. It will not be redemptive. It will be the materialization of everything he never wanted to face.What are you feeding inside yourself?