THE PURSUIT OF FREEDOM ENDS WITH CALAMITOUS IRE. here, she is thrust into a whirlwind of disarray, where PRIDE is left in SHAMBLES and EXPECTATIONS are cast overboard to their untimely death. LIKE CHAOS TO THE STORM, HER WRATH BREWS . . . settles deep within the crown of bones and robs her of all HOPE. denied she WAS, denied she IS, denied she WILL ALWAYS BE as long as the DUTCHMAN has its rancorous captain. she EXISTS, she EXISTS wholly and profoundly and he knows it. HE DESPISES IT ( AND I DESPISE HIM ).
laden with contemplation does she row, palms dirtied with furious crimson and deep incisions where nails once marred flesh. RECALL CURLED DIGITS TURNED FISTS, THE WAY THEY BEGGED FOR HIS HEART, SCREAMING . . . / CRUSH IT / LIKE HE DID YOURS. thoughts plague, doubts suffocate, hours pass, patience wears thin. NEARLY THERE. swampland is thick with dankness, and buried memories rise to the forefront to drown her in NOSTALGIA. location creeps nearer and nearer, as does ANTICIPATION of what will be spoken of . . . what will be CONFESSED. nothing can remain hidden from all seeing eyes, and SHE will extract the raw TRUTH from those stubborn lips. lips that have now tasted bitter PAIN and have SPEWED words so FOUL that she dare not repeat them to an undeserving SOUL. BUT ALWAYS, SHE WILL SEE THROUGH HER GUISE . . . SEE THAT SHE STILL EXISTS.
