Heartsleeves

Beneath the rotten logs, amongst the moldy dirt, festering in carrion frozen solid by winter, life flourishes.

Deep in lakes salty enough to preserve the dead, in acidic waters stoked with sulfur like hell, at the heart of a land poisoned by radiation, still, life flourishes.

Bottom feeders. The ignoble. The wretched. Scum on the boot pecking and clawing for even a scrap of nourishment. Forgotten, if they can even receive the privilege of being noticed.

Same as you, I also want to live.