22

Buckets filled

All the way up

To the top

Barely brimming over

Ready to be spilled

Buckets –

Filled by cups

Tiny trays of doom

Dark- soundproofed

Rooms of doom

Swept up – swept clean

By those tiny trays

Days over –

Cleansed with sweeping brooms

Long lost fellowship

Grounded only by gravity

Elevated to the stories

Floors built one on top

Keeping long lost fellows

Grounded –

Punishment; one on top

Seek ye not

Find no way

Secrets lost forever

Children of these day

Never shone thine light

Always shall you see

Darkness –

Bundles over rays