We are made strong when the long voyage is married by a most repulsive
-“Never have I ever”-
(I’m going to take this shot now)
social suicide disguised in your own hand holding the matrimonial loaded gun.
A mile away,
Not far from the place where I buried all my regrets,
was the rough rugged coast of Sicily;
Resting, laying down somewhere beyond the beach,
no longer scrambling about, or searching to do more.
I, on the other hand,
Was startled as though in great Danger.
In the distance,
A hatchet could be heard screaming in the deepest of tides.
It was then, in the rippled reflections, I saw my powerful, most terrible enemy.
Poetry