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The Black Sea of Sorrow

Poetry By: Chrysta

Husk of Ivory,

What is it this sickness you've got?

Submitted:Dec 9, 2009    Reads: 97    Comments: 3    Likes: 3   

Lost in a sea of misery,

Pesky fishes torture me.

I've no boat, no sail to fly.

Nibble at my toes,

Nibble at my nose,

Alone in the deep I slowly die.

Skeleton, with bone fingers spread wide,

Ribcage in which guppies hide,

How is it that you are still alive inside?

Teasing, with with scales that glint,

Not showing remorse with even the slightest hint.

Feed, there's enough to go around,

Eat until you're nice and round.

Skull eyes so black,

It would appear that life they lack.

But no, for there is a soul,

Be it significant, if not whole.

Sinking farther into the deep,

For treasures I cannot seek,

For with these bone hands I cannot grip,

So I sink, much like a broken ship.

These bones, they do not shatter,

Covered in sand, they don't even clatter.

Existence is as never-ending as matter.

Still alive, with bones that rot,

Husk of Ivory,

What is it this sickness you've got?

This life is not so savory,

To live is like slavery.

Hurry, and nibble as quick as you can,

Fishes, your teeth that are weak and wan.


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