It's cold, yet comforting.
Silence. Faintest thing heard are footsteps.
"Are you all right?" A voice slips through the metal door, that possessed a single, skinny long window.
A simple shrug, nudge, or grunt are the most accepting answers.
Why am I here again.
Again.
I'm wrong, I'm wrong, I'm wrong.
It doesn't matter what the truth is. Time needs to get served.
They've already found a rabbit.
Why bother looking for the actual perpetrator
When they already have one to blame
for the destroyed crops.
YOU ARE READING
The Big book of Curiosity
PoetryYou obviously clicked this due to curiosity. I'll have you know; It's a big compilation of poems. I'm not that good but if you strongly dislike you can read something else. Some will not be mine; and be credited
