Thursday, June 17, 2010

Refugee


Running, hiding and narrowly escaping
He falls upon an empty mansion
Royally coloured,
Surrounded with drooping, unhappy plants
Food,
Food,FOOD,
Thats all he thought of.

His stomach
was digesting his intestines.
He lurched and searched, but,
Nothing, nothing remotely linked
to his craving.
The shelves congested with cobwebs,
Rats storming out of cupboards
A dusty ambiance.

And suddenly
a hopeful Light
Maybe a path to Heaven.
He heard noises, some voices again.
Voices that didn't sound friendly
Voices like guns
with no Mercy.

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