A Sunken Ship

I am the ship, already gone.

Not afraid of the deep black.

The pressure comes at dawn.

It only promises sleep.

The fear of dying? Trivial.

It belongs to the sunlight.

This cold here is essential.

A chosen, final night.

My dread is the empty hold.

The cargo I never took.

No vibrant stories told.

No maps in any book.

“I meant to carry music.”

I tell the crushing tides.

But the hull is just a mystic

Space where nothing abides.

I leave only the deep water

That shifted when I fell.

I was a failing daughter

To the sea's dark, heavy swell.

The timbers of my spine ache.

Sore wood, soaked and strange.

But my heart is the mistake.

A rusted, heavy range.

It is the engine's lead weight.

The dense, cold ballast stone.

"I was born to meet this fate."

I whisper, all alone.

The world sails high above,

Bright ships chasing their mark.

Missing out feels like love. 

My true role in the dark.

This is not a choice made now.

But the current's own decree.

I kept a silent vow:

To leave no legacy.

Just a structure in the sand,

To silently decay.

“The pain of nothing left is worse than the day I went away.”