Mass grave

I am buried

beneath a smoking pile of charred corpses,

casualties

of your mistakes.

Your boot snaps brittle bones.

The pile is growing.

Eventually it will collapse,

and bury you

in the death you’ve sown.

by Kara Rowan, The Hustle Horrors Series

For more information on The Hustle Horrors Series, click here.

This poem is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or companies is purely coincidental.