You drowned my image
and captured the cerulean ocean,
using your netted evidence
to tackle treachery and file
against valuable energy .
Bewitched roses no longer
lament the abysmal bottom
but swallow themselves
until they are buried under
your inequitable drainage.
You have trained death
to be a desirable truth
instead of realizing
that grievance of veiled
funerals, will come back
to clutch your black neck
in unforgivable blood.
