Not a drop to drink.

Slowly, the reservoir breaks. Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink. Slowly, the river gets heavier and heavier. It has become so heavy, it needs to spit out. Slowly, the river enters our cities. It’s early morning and we are not ready to drown. It’s late at night and we are not ready to drown. It’s a sunny day and we are definitely not ready to drown. Slowly, everything gets washed away. Mine. Yours. Everyone’s. The river tickles our bare feet and swallows our children. The river makes the elderly laugh as it carries them away. The river and its mud everywhere. The river and its killing froth. Thank the devil because the river hasn’t a soul of its own, else it would have climbed inside our homes, ripped them apart and killed each one of us.

Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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