Purgatory.

Its a group of us and here we are, and we wait where its white everywhere. No texture, no echoes and you have to speak directly in the ear for fear the sound will be lost. 

I’ve still got my backpack on and my hat with a shark stenciled onto it by my older sister. If i’m where they keep whispering about, where is my family? The ones that I lost. We lost our lives and this is our cost? 

I guess I’ll chew my bubble gum until it loses it’s flavor, but the hole in my satchel where the tire marks remain, cause my crayons to spill, before passing domains.

Now i only have shapes of lines and no color.