Racing The Clock

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The bell clangs and my anchor retreats,
I look upon the crowd gathered on the streets.
Waving their flags with goodbyes and farewells,
Breathing in the fresh salty smells.

My blissful joy bounced off of the docks,
Not knowing my lifespan was racing the clock.
I took off to sea, the pressure was on.
Growing small in the eyes of the people long gone.

The Statue of Liberty I longed to see,
While passengers lounged on decks A through G.
Steam rose through my smokestacks as I chugged along,
My engines powered through, staying strong.

After three days of work I was feeling the breeze,
Sailing the ocean was coming with ease.
Dancing and singing, card games galore.
People were prancing on my waxed wooden floors.

A message, another!
Came one after the other.
I heard it myself,
Beware the ice shelf.

From my starboard side shot an agonizing pain,
Changing the world, which would never be the same.
I told them to leave, get on the boats, and flee.
But at first no one listened to my desperate pleas.

It was April fifteenth of nineteen twelve,
When the water pushed through all of my valves.
Pulling me deeper, lower, to sink.
Then I was gone, all in one blink.

While laying beneath my icy grave,
I think of the people that could have been saved.
Knowing I caused this tragic fate.
To the souls at the bottom, left to be bait.





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