100 wc- the slime dripped through

Goal- to write a rhyming poem.

The slime dripped through my hands, cold and greasy. My father looked at me, this wouldn’t be easy. He looked at me with a smile, the one i haven’t seen in a while. The last few years have been hard for him, 6 recorded deaths and hope so slim, I took one last look at the world around me, it was then I realised how bad this could be.

Then I stumbled, as i mumbled “this is it”, as I stopped for a bit.

The slime dripped down and I began to drown.

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