To die by the sea,
Must be the sweetest of deaths.
Just lulled by your sins,
Into the sands of regrets.
And soaked in your pains,
Through the angers of tridents.
Or washed in the darkness,
Beneath the heaviest of blankets.
Maybe drowned by life’s sirens,
Between the wails of the waters.
Maybe stars in placed positions,
Within poisons of spiny sandals.
Or crushed by the pressures,
Upon collections of seashells.
And just fluffy white foams,
Over sand castles of cities.
Just waves over waves over waves,
Besides your secrets and torments.
Choking you to a silent, brutal, death.