it happened at the lake
he sat there at the edge
wishing that it were a ledge
it might have been as wide as
an ocean but it was as swallow as a puddle
he wanted to jump in and enjoy himself
perhaps submerge his head underneath the
pressing waves, undulating, slapping at his feet
but he recoiled at the cold water
he didn't want to go back in
there wasn't any telling who would bring him back up
if he drowned, there'd be no one to save him
he didn't expect someone to push him in
but down he went, and he struggled
there wasn't much struggle when the water
filled his lung though
he died the way he lived: floating, drifting away
into the wide expanse of an unexplored world
YOU ARE READING
this fantastical world is too surreal (poetry #5)
Poetry"a rustle crackles underneath jackboots crossbow tight in hand she breathes one final breath before he pulls the trigger" you know the drill
