There were claw marks on the walls juxtaposed to crude art. My fingers caressed the etchings, like somehow these walls could speak. The secrets of the ones before me, buried in the moss beneath my feet, voices choked by death in travel, a life’s journey incomplete. I pressed forward deeper still, into the belly of the beast, looking for a heart to pound, a familiar drummer’s beat. But all I heard were the tunnels’ echoed howls and shrieks. #rebellesociety #poetry #labyrinth #searching
Posted on: Sat, 17 May 2014 20:00:00 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015