Animals crawl on their elbows, searching for a place of refuge. These plains seems rigged, as if a blade came through and chopped it to small cubed dials. You gaze on the surface, wondering if this would be your last moment to wonder. The waters would boil from your eyes that enveloped fiery reigns. The foliage collapses on itself, almost as if to tell you that its end is nigh. You don’t want this to be true, you would scorn the seas to make bread to surpass these ungrateful hours. The winds cackle in defiance, it heats up your void from being exposed to mans disgrace for long enough. The bells dispurce, for you know in time this cannot be what is reality. These blessings, they fall under your skin for you bleed for this candor.
Contributor- Chris Ballenger