The beep,
The ping,
Spikes the fear.
What will it be now?
What will it bring?
She reaches,
She reads,
Her eyes begin to sting.
Her cheeks are wetted as her blood boils,
Her skin burns as if aflame.
The beep,
The ping,
Oh what it brought.
She cannot withstand it.
She reaches for her gateway,
Her gateway that leads far from here,
She doesn’t bother to count,
She doesn’t bother to care,
The rush of coolness follows,
And she let it whisk her away,
Away from the beep,
Away from the ping.
Away from here.

Poetry Slam: 


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