Mud

Mud. It fills in every crevice of my skin. It smears on my face and turns my once white shoes brown. It fills in the dips of the laugh lines around my eyes and makes my clothes stick to me uncomfortably. It’s disgusting when it gets in your mouth and painful when it gets in your eyes. Mud is a part of life on rainy days.

Though, then again, mud is the least of your worries when you’re being buried alive.