The whirlpools below have made her a slave
An all encompassing fury
(and who is this who has called her back?)
From up on high the image shifts
She sees that boat crash through thick mists
And thinks of nothing but destruction.
Her essence through the ether as a scream of pain
Driving down dark skies faster than the rain
Red ribbons spoil the air around her broken frame
She takes this moment to become the sea
To crush this hateful vessel that MUST be
That which has prevented her ascension
And what would one need to break every window on this world?
Grayscale rainbows darkly shine
And fall into her sad, expanding body
She has refused the 11th hour
My nemesis, my love....
June
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