The girls with oceans in their stomachs;
The boys with rivers in lines of their palm
Dance beneath the hangman's noose.
This is before the tidal waves
This is the calm.
Waltzing below the yellow spruce.
This sweet, small dream will die
In aching blood.
The oceans and rivers will dry
After they exit in a Godforsaken flood.
The girls and the boys will grasp for air and grit
Allowing it to cascade into their bodily droughts.
Gazing at their dream, wondering what ruined it.
Water loves in ripples and waves
And these are their thoughts.
Mother,
This is how young humans die.
One after another,
They drip dry.
