Plot Hole (Poetry)

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She was a gravedigger who did her work

Slowly, and

Only by night.

She starts with just one shovelful of

Moist, crimson dirt.

It doesn't seem like a lot,

And it isn't.

'Tis but a scratch on the surface.

But everyday, the shovel brings

Her deeper.

It brings more moist, crimson dirt

To the top of the hole,

And her closer to her desired depth and destination.

She chooses a plot where no one ever goes

To just start digging.

She has her reasons which no one understands

(Or even tries to) at first;

Complex justification for it all.

But suddenly she needs none,

And she digs just to dig.

Since the groundskeepers

Don't notice or care to

Actually keep the grounds,

She knows it wouldn't truly make a difference

Anyways, but she thinks

'It's the principle of the thing.'

Their failure to do their duties

Makes it all the easier to dig that extra grave

Without them noticing.

She locks up her shovels when she's done,

Careful to keep the best ones nice, sharp,

And clean so as to not mess up

The shed in which they're stored.

She knows how the groundskeepers

Hate dirt.

Nobody notices

Or suspects

The gravedigger...

Until she drags herself into the grave she has been

Slowly digging

Only by night

And never climbs back out.

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