into the earth below, light is lost.
Eyes adjust easily, lungs inhale
the hot and fetid air. Feet trod
through the dampness further
and further in. Dirty skin sweats
the rags with another layer of
human primer. Tiny paws and
claws scurry frantic with the
approach. These children are
always lost and too many to
count. A continuous present
is marked by the folly of the
past, ghosts haunting lives
in a way more terrifying
than any movie ever could.
Feet stop and stoop down,
an endless ache bogs the body
into rest. Curled up against
endless shadows, the sound of
the children scurrying about
in the abyss.
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