I am it.
Unknown and unpredictable.
My clothes tattered beyond recognition
and the color long faded away.
Everything but me seems to be the same.
I sit here,
rarely moving, slowly rotting.
My clothes, skin, hair, and teeth
smell like the swamp--
Afraid.
Live it!
Stand out--
run while you can!
And don’t look back at me.
You won’t stop.
Don’t stop.
I didn’t stay out.
I stayed in.
Afraid of the swamp?
Hell, I’ve become the swamp.
No comments:
Post a Comment