Caverns of being yawning,
breathing,
living,
experiencing the stress;
inhaling,
exhaling,
expiring silently.
A lantern for the canary.
Ashes flutter back,
reverberating off collapsing walls.
Mouths agape close naturally
with clogged lungs deprived.
Exhumed
bird skeletons
shrouded in smog.
Still it’s pretended the answer is unknown
when the answer is a mutual fear.
( ❤ Mitch)
The Works of Mitch Worden 