The Thick Sludge Oozing Out of Her Soul

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Sludge
Locked in a dark room,

With people afraid to let her loose,

A tender soul once,

Now an abyss filled with nothing but gloom.

I asked one ‘Who is she?’

Rescripted to ‘What is she?’,

an immoral, ghastly,

a kaput with her existence so anti.

They said she accords pain,

She is the ominous that scares,

One look at her got me uncertain,

She appeared to be so bright and clear.

A strongly built man next to her,

And warmth was the moving wave,

An instance and a blurred vision,

The Sight they tagged as horrific.

Her ways were on show,

For the black thick sludge,

Oozing out of her soul,

Was Eating up all the life it sensed close.

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