At the bottom of the well
the liquid is not only the rain
but salty tears
There is no escape
I have scraped layers of my
fingers raw, bloody-
mixing with the juices from below
clawing, going nowhere
I see pieces of my flesh on the stones
Is it fear I feel?
Regret?
I think I will just sleep some more on
this rock keeping me above the
water line.
Maybe when I awake,
Ill be somewhere else.
2 comments:
You are a gifted writer. I'll be back to read more.
i like it. you wrote that huh.
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