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Poetry: Black hole

by Jolene Belmain

The eyes within the black hole
tremble with fear,
wondering if his last day
will end right now, right here.

Those shaking legs move farther back
to hit a cold dirt wall,
waiting and hoping life will be prolonged,
listening for deaths call.

The only sound which is heard
besides his breath in the dark,
is the sound of a thousand thumping feet
combined into a heart.

The footsteps from outside
are slowly getting louder,
a muffled sound is also heard
of a pack being set in snows powder.

He shivers all the more
in fear for life; for death.
Not in fear of dying itself,
but of its eternal rest.

A hand comes from nowhere
grabbing what's inside,
then and there he knows,
that he can no longer hide.

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