Nowhere Near Her a Phone
Quick like lighting, she is flown
To a darkness
With waters of murkiness
To a pebbly zone
To her practically unknown,
Nowhere near her a rescuing phone,
To be physically tortured for deeper groans
And psychologically for disquieting moans.
Now, she is mortally afraid
Of even the dusts into her eyes blown
And has herself made
To seem into a furnace thrown:
Increasingly picking the sounds of her melting bone
And unnerving scenes of one crushed alone.
Gosh! The restless voice of her sister,
Not here,
Could 've been an alerting megaphone
And that of boyfriend Peter,
Still out there,
A panicking microphone!
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