Literature
Worn Out Siren Tales
I was once the moon-rippled, crystal clear
disturbance at shore
and you found hope, resting
on the borders of
sand and wave.
When I moved, you breathed,
It just isn't worth it,
and I
wish
I
had listened.
I was carved on ship hulls for a
reason,
and I was summoned from sleep to
drown myself in the clutches
of a sea that disowned me
for one too-
and I wrote on woody parchments
for more attention than
story-telling.
So when you moved, I stopped,
Tell me this is eternal,
And I
wish-
I really
wish
I had not.