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Rebecca Sorenson Feb 2018
Moi
The floor danced
as the sirens,
they beckoned

Sweet words,
a soothing melody
to my out-of-tune mind

What is their hair,
shimmering with droplets,
to me, a white flag

The scent,
the fragrance,
the stench

Of their shampoo,
pulling me under,
until I am choking on their locks

Their eyes, like an anchor,
weighing me down
so I cannot struggle

Instead, I still,
my body, a freeze frame,
my mind, a ravenous tsunami

Grey, static, fuzzy
until my last breath escapes my throat,
and I drown

— The End —