A black tape on my mouth, a red multiplication sign across it, as I struggle to breath. I want to say something, my heart is bleeding as I witness the horrors of deceased humanity unfold. Tied to a chair, my hands to my back, my legs chained, I can only claw at the rusty metallic object, in hopes I can claw my way through it, out of my misery, closer to the rotting decaying flesh of humanity, try and save it, resuscitate it, anything to prevent these roaches, maggots and worms from feeding away at it, making it nutrients for an uglier monster, watered down by the red fluid dripping from its victims as it sprouts even more, it’s ugly nature emerging. I can’t scream! I can’t breathe! My struggle is futile! Is there anyone out there? Anyone who can stand up? Speak up? Is anyone going to help? Can anyone feel my struggle?
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Author:
Nah Hannah (
Offline) - Published: June 9th, 2024 23:59
- Comment from author about the poem: Even the smallest voices make a difference. use your voice to speak up for them
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 5
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