#WritcoPoemPrompt6
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
The water seemed to be getting thick ,
A death stink hovering ahead ,
Waste flows from the chemical plant ,
Like gushing of blood from an open cut,
The journey gets tougher and tougher,
Soon I reach a standstill state ,
I smell it before I know it ,
The oil spread across like the black death
Destroying every life form in its vicinity ,
Good thing I'm a dying one ,
Now impatiently waiting for death ,
To save me from this living hell .

PS