one.

Collapsing holes are
--dark, deep, lonely.

The tunnels are
--long, lost, never-ending.

I dig and dig
--deeper and deeper; harder, fast--to a tunnel I will never find a light at the end of.

False hope stands
--like a beacon; it burned. Filling all my senses, reaffirming my miserable sight.

Tossing and turning.
--The dirt did churn.

I swore I could
--seek the end to a pathway of shadows...