"The White Tunnel"
A sculpture carved with extreme precision
in the jagged cliff of egotism,
Skinned with white stones burnished
to shimmer under the sunlight's embrace.
A tunnel. Bravo. Perfection.
It's hard not to enamor its beauty from
the view of a broken reflection,
Step into it's slippery ground of flawlessness
and you'll find yourself lying helplessly.
A light. Speck. Distant
I'm not imprisoned yet I feel so crippled,
No chain attached yet I cannot move,
Oh! that slick floor of perfection ,
It's difficult not to stumble.
A scar. Gigantic. Deep
On my way I found a chasm rooted in the bedrock,
Dark as the vantablack,
Horrifying abyss of grudges
made this perfect tunnel so vengeful and unforgiving.
Wounded but still willing to grasp that light,
Four-legged mammals couldn't stand its impeccability,
So I crawled like a cold-blooded serpent
making my way through the end
of the most perfect white tunnel.