Descript and dense does death sound,
An alluring and attractive abyss.
Silence seeped into the stoic sides,
Seeking a selection that sends chills down my spine.
The devastating depth, and the depression
Looks to loop in a never-ending lullaby.
I welcome the wanton and warrant
The multiple miniscule mentions (possible parlances).
There is a hand, however, that I hope to hold,
Ever so flawlessly helping me saunter back to the sun.
But this is a better place I go to,
And a far greater rest than I ever knew.
– Prathik Rao
INKEDDOWN 