The Flood


The wind froze the rivers on my cheeks.
The words cuts deeper than blades do,
and the memories deeper than that.
It rained that day, without a cloud in the sky
and the ground was flooded;
Weak against the waves, I drowned.
I lay on the damp ground that day, without a pillow in sight,
and the ground ate me.
6 feet under was the clearest I'd ever been able to see,
and soon my chest opened.
A flower pushed through the now dry ground.
My body could now decay, but the flower grew strong from my remains.
With my old body shed like dry skin,
I grew taller than the clouds and kissed the sun.
Below me, were those yet to be drowned.

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