These waves of resentment are upon my fragile shell. I yell to the sky, but no one’s there to find me in the midst of a perfect storm. A faint light shows itself while my face is set on fire due to the suns graceful flare that tears the air that lies in my pores and I freeze. My head squirms away from the inevitable pain that I face with the sun to my face. “I’m made” I say and my thoughts are lost in a frost. That makes my brain shiver. Makes my pain quiver and the rain meets the sun’s flares and crosses the planks of death and I thank a peace

ful saint that ranks higher than myself, for once. And as I grasp for air under the crashing tides I blink and I’m under and soaking tundra of liquid that swallows me like a snack. And I faint. And I die.


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