This is written for FOWC: Putrid and this prompt using the word “crawl.” The form I used is called a Spenserian Quintilla, which I learned about on this blog. This poem is really pessimistic, somewhat of an exaggeration, but I’m sharing it anyway. 🙂 Sometimes, I let the negativity have its voice and then figure out how to smash it later.
There’s difficulty up ahead:
As crawling through a putrid swamp
Is how life feels. Trouble has led
To even more, when will it end?
Before all breaks to pieces, Jesus, heavens rend!