Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 5
The pit is bottomless,
inhabited by detestable creatures
half formed and shifting-
Their teeth like splinters,
their breath the smell of rotting flesh.

They never take shape
Their edges smudged,
But they are poised
to pounce at your weakest.

You fall by your own volition

down, and still farther down.

Because falling is simple

when the pit is yours.
fizbett
Written by
fizbett  17/F/nowhereland
(17/F/nowhereland)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems