Unsinkable

Unsinkable

The rain is gently falling on the skylight in my room,
I lie in bed and look out at the opalescent gloom.
My bedside clock says twenty-five to seven and I yawn,
It’s too wet or it’s too early for the chorus of the dawn.

As I lie there in the silence broken only by the rain,
A kaleidoscope of memories goes tumbling through my brain:
Images, unbidden, sharp reminders of my pain,
An unending horror movie to the soundtrack of the rain.

Now, I’m lying in the bath, almost totally submerged,
Melting in viscosity, running in the heat.
Trying to slow the pounding of my pulse by breathing deeply,
To prevent it sounding soundings, s.o.s-ing from the deep.

My ship has overturned, the unthinkable has happened,
The Unsinkable has foundered, belly-up in foreign seas,
I’m a desperate “soul-survivor” in an airlock in this coffin-hull,
Banging out my message, hopless hoping for release.

The rain is gently falling on the skylight in my room,
I lie in bed and look out at the opalescent gloom.
My bedside clock says twenty-five to seven and I yawn,
It’s too wet or it’s too early for the chorus of the dawn.

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