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The A Word

Musings, querulous rants, music, and possibly actual writings of a sublimely oddballish s-type
8 years ago. Friday, December 22, 2017 at 11:49 PM

Drowning.

Sepia-toned, Pointilistic reproductions 

lost in tempestuous seas.

Oxygen.

Gasping, a desperate plea for another breath.

Raw throat, screams clawing from the depths

break the Silence.

Stillness.

Lifeless limbs tempest tossed,

a visage marred and broken;

carrion feast for Crows.

Agony.

Doubtful fleeting glances,

taciturn lips pressed in thin lines.

 

They never knew anyway.   

  

 

 


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