They dug and made room for the tiniest thing possible. The filthy sludge was too minute for such a mass of people who worked on it. Funny how they deployed all their faculties on one mini life when it could assuredly waste hundreds. Astounding was the defying aptitude of hers, never agreed on bowing until they couldn’t undergo and landed up at this verdict.
Once inside; sweltered, suffocated, tyrannised at downright inky setting, now thinking of a place to seek shelter and forever it took. Praying of immortality after this life as neither in nor out is tranquility but in death.
Up in a second, teetering and tumbling,
Through the Stygian ginnel, soggy and deserted,
Darker it gets, with proceeding prints,
Never a lump scintillating and stimulating, never a guide
Smaller than that is what means nada,
No dictionary obliging but laments
Her being weeny, the type always derided and disgusted.
Lost way, lost self, feart of all-
Just not death.
Never an eye catches attention as the site is far-flung, lost in space though around them. While there, the only activity is waiting for enough red to be seen as it will entail whole to be used but then prayers will be heard. So until then, let’s wait tatlım, just wait.