What if I told you
that this ship was sinking?
Would you don your captains cap,
tie an anchor to your waist,
lace your arms into the helm,
holding it tight like a lover would,
refusing to ever let go,
even as the waters rise,
trying to pull you up and away,
until the ocean consumes you?
Would you sink with your ship?
Or would you collect yourself,
hands gripping the banister,
the only thing between you and the sea,
and with one last look over your shoulder,
at the crew broken by chaos,
heave yourself over that rail
to meet the rising waters half-way?
Would you swim to shore,
wherever that may be?
Would you swim as fast as you could
to leave before the sharks came
fins foretelling the frenzied feast,
that is inevitable?
If this ship was sinking…
If this ship was sinking…