A deep hole
Exists,
Where once
There was none,
And within it,
Apparently,
An endless pit,
Of a profound,
And debilitating
Composition,
Of shame,
And grief,
Or perhaps
Something else,
It fumes,
And churns,
Like a witch’s potion,
It neither drains,
Nor runs out,
Of effervescence,
Occasionally,
It does settle,
But not enough,
For the laying
Of a bridge
Across the chasm
To the other side.

Image Credit: Photo by Joel Filipe on StockSnap