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!