Atila's Student Blog

You panic and fall.
Cold. Barren. Useless.
The giving tree withered and rotten.

Was it not said to not bite the hand that feeds.
Frozen. Empty. Idle.
The lake reflects a disfigured reflection.

You think, therefore you are. And you are all that remains.
Dark. Unending. Unreachable.
The hole engulfs all light.

#poetry