Plague Ship

Drowning, struggling.
I come up just for enough air
to shout for help,
but no one can hear me.
I never made it
above the surface,
and what I take in
is a long, heaving gasp
of cold,
of salt.
Are these tears?
What ocean made this chill?
What long black wave
is rolling over me,
carrying me out
on the tide?
Desperation sinks me,
and my clothes weigh me down,
unfurled sails
dragging me to the sea floor,
leaving me broken and wasted.
Tonight, I’m nothing but a shipwreck
with ruined cargo.

Talk back to me. Trust me; I'm listening.

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