The Rabbit Hole

Cheek pressed on the cold bathroom floor. 

Focus. 

Count the tile.

How many times do feet pass just beyond the crack under the door.

Can’t. I can’t. I forgot to read the bottle.

Just enough to turn on the faucet, don’t want anyone to hear me lose.
Push up now child, light or dark,
 

You choose.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741