Floating

In the inlet of insanity,
I gently took my leave,
And begged a blank-faced little girl,
If she knew how to grieve.

The bay's awash with little girls,
Their bodies in the foam,
Bob mindlessly and painlessly
And always all alone.

The water's salty sea-spit scent
Is all that they can taste
And all they wish their lips to know,
Despite the sense of waste.

All little girls take their last breath,
As open lungs are filled,
Surrendering to emptiness,
Senseless, numb and thrilled.

I watch the bodies, terrified,
My feet sink into sand,
And allow them all to float away,
While I remain on land.