And with the ocean she has found again this sense of
security.
As painful as it is to relive the pain, she and it return
again and again.
To one another they open their hearts:
The salt, it drowns her,
Her soul, devours.
And with this endless archetype of what is dead and what is
she
The ocean, it becomes her friend alluding all sharks and
misery.
But when it reaches her windowsill the milk becomes but
poisonous swill.
“What justice have you, to take away her heart that aches?”
the rain addresses the ocean.
“She needs us again.” In all fairness it replies.
“But you hurt her and she suffers!” the rain said as it
crashed against her window.
“She needs us to drown her and her demons.” And the ocean
flows through her screen and
pours onto her floor.
“Runaway we say!” the rain it calls to her but their cries fall
upon deaf ears.
And her arms are calmly surrounded by the substance
And her smile is cast in a watery glaze.
But just before she swallows the ocean it runs away.
Broken from her disillusion.
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