“There Came a Time”

She considers drowning a lovely thing.

Words and ink,

her preference.

Throwing her lungs over her shoulder,

as she dives into the mess,

but not suicidal.

She is existing, at best.

We all have our hobbies.

She stops,

touching her pearly throat,

nails digging in.

She can’t stay,

the waves piling above her head.

A witch,

with a forked tongue,

pulling her farther along.

Time to make a decision.

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