Squirming on a glistening boulevard,

enclosed in a reflective lagoon.

Floundering in wilful vain,

drowning in a gradual monsoon.

Rising from dark safe homes,

Asphyxiated by leaking rooves.

Upward to the dangers unknown,

to the brightness above, they move.

These slender soft-bodied borrowers,

Traversing Styx without a boat.

Some writhing across and those,

sole-fully smashed into the moat.

It is better to remain in the dark,

in their rotting sodden known,

than to venture out into the light,

where most don’t make it home.

-Written by Naomi V. (13/11/16)

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