She tells me she feels like
her ship’s going down
Like half of her hull is
already under water,
The voices in her head can’t
swim so they run through the
halls of the hull snapping
towels at each other
She says she wants to be a
leaf on the ocean
drifting, drifting towards
tropical islands,
Laid by the current’s soft
hand upon lands where
she will remain until
death fully dries her
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