Brimstone Poem by Axiom Wheeler

Brimstone

Rating: 5.0


Sulfuric ash is floating up from the rubbish.
The heat singes every hair
Sweat drips down my temple.
Death is the scent in the air.

I fear that I won’t make it back.
The liquid flame consumed my legs.
I guess I must die in this hell,
And let the heat cook away my life.

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