The soft breeze flutters through the crisp leaves. The light wind rushes to dance in my hair. The ocean beats against the high cliff as the ground starts to rumble and sink in. I fell in the awaiting water. The coolness made my skin like ice. The water nipped at my exposed skin. My gown slowly becoming transparent fanned out around my dying body in the dark water. My last bit of air drifted from my already blue lips. My future is forever locked in the vault of secrecy, never being unlocked. My poetic mind will also be a mystery. The black water will wash away the ink that writes my intellegent words in nothing as permanent as stone but as permanent as I need it to be.
Drowning With My Poetry
October 3, 2011