Bugs
A poem for my "Writing Prompts for October" Challenge
The bugs crawl along my skin.
As I lay underneath the dark cold earth.
Decayed.
Desceased.
My body long buried.
As I rot away inside a wooden box.
The bugs picked away at my decaying flesh.
Gnawing.
Tormenting.
My skin was crawling with the tiny legs.
My sewn lips shut tight.
I wanted to scream but I was buried alive.
Or well... dead?
Chloe Rose Violet🌹
I wrote this as a part of my "Writing Prompts for October Challenge" which you can view down below.
I have read a few people's posts in regards to this writing prompt challenge and I'd love to see some more!
Please feel free to comment on the original post or this one to make sure I see it as I will be picking my favourites from the month of October. I was hoping to find one for every prompt. Do one or do them all! Thanks for reading everyone.
21/31
About the Creator
Chloe Rose Violet 🌹
quiet about the wounds
loud about the healing
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Comments (6)
This reminded me of when how some people take quite long to realise that they're dead. Loved your poem!
Nice - all the best!
This is nasty. Well done.
fantastic writing! I enjoyed it immensely.
Don't be too much sad like this
💞