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The Daily Cardinal Est. 1892
Thursday, May 26, 2022
firken sinkhole.png

Sinkhole

All articles featured in The Beet are creative, satirical and/or entirely fictional pieces. They are fully intended as such and should not be taken seriously as news.

I find myself writhing in bed 

Fending off the voices in my head

For the umpteenth time, I remember it all

Perhaps back then, I had been gall

I had let them into my innermost space

Sharing with them my life and everything I had faced


I feel cold.

Cold because they had rendered my soul nude

Cold because they had been chillingly callous and rude

Looking out the window, I see spots of light dotting the stretch of dark

Like they populated the murk of my heart

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The streetlights still live on

While they are long gone


For years I have carried this baggage

Too much for most to manage

Most wish well but don’t want me, I can tell

Perhaps I can now sleep and escape this hell

And in my dreams a sinkhole can open beneath

Swallowing me into a world away, where everything’s swell.

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