I trudged through the forest of death and blood.

My body and mind could tread no more. 

A prey of mosquitos, I was stuck in the mud. 

I ran as fast as a Formula One car, away from the flood.

Pushing my bike through thick, sticky mud, like a war.

I tripped over a root and my beloved bike fell over with a thud.

Dragging a dirty hump of metal, a worthless dud.  ,

The wheels, broken and bent, just like its core.

My pockets filled to the brim with brown, sticky crud.

Crumbs of dried poop, leaves, branches, and mud

All sullied, my sleeves and jeans that I have cherished since the age of four.

Suddenly, I sank down, like a plant in a field of mud.

I looked around and to my surprise, saw a vine as red as blood.

Shoulder-deep in the sinkhole, I grabbed it and felt a floor.

As I climbed back up, the rain left me behind, and so did the flood.

The horrific rain is gone, and slowly, so is the mud.

Oh god! That sure wasn’t a bore!.

This was surely a close call with a flood.

I’m glad it all ended well, and I spilled no blood.