Sunday, March 4, 2007

Death by drowning

It is cold here,
In the black depths of the lake.
Where my body lies.
Caressed by the gentle fronds of forgetfulness

I am white and bloated,
But I do not care.
Here there are no bitter eyes,
To criticize my looks or size,

Soon I will float to the surface,
And strangers will find me.
Exclaiming with disgust at my ugliness.
But what do I care?


I am dead.