Flood is a no-nonsense snitch

By A. gale Tabucanon

The flood’s a straight poke

Like thousand horses rushing from the mountains

Raging water swallows the road in minutes

Mortals seek higher places to avoid it

With power, it honestly ambitiously greedily conquers everything

Undeterred, it unabashedly goes through cracks

Swallows the vulnerable

Demolishes the weak defenses made against it

Rats out infirm levees, secrets unburied, exposed to the skies

Not letting go of those who waded it

Folks might fight another day from the hot deathly fever brought by its slobber

For those born in the next decade, now will be a past story

Still, these words be given to you as a present from a precedent: 

Do not undervalue this earthy torrent