Hell Is Having Nothing To Do But Wait For The Conclusion Of An Inevitable Journey

Moving down,
the archers fall.
Arrows raining pulled by fate.
Cascading parts of people call,
attempt escape.
None have escaped.

Gravity, the killer force,
drags.
Even words are pulled to hell.
Like heavy bags,
we are pulled as well.

To water, to steel,
to wood, and rock.
To air.
To no avail.
Sliding inevitably,
inexorably.
To tick.
To tock.
To our horrific fate,
which we can see coming.
Trapped in terror's check-mate.
Out only option is to wait.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.