She flew straight for the sky!

Circling our prey, we flew high that night.
With sober precision we chose our poison
And circled in and settled for dinner.
We picked flesh from each other’s bones,
Like vultures tearing at weakness
And stripping off dignity.
The carnage lay on the table,
And the stench rose from the excrement
Of our unlabelled insecurities.
Then we drank straight from the bottle,
And indulged our terminal struggles
With no concession for a cure. 
And she said: no more of this!
No more shaming and lamenting,
I choose something else.
Desperately, we ripped and shredded
And cut her autobiography
As if it were our own. 
But rising from our slick analysis 
That pooled like the congealed blood on the floor,
She flew straight for the sky!