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Ocean bed—

So serene,

Peaceful,

A ride to the void.

Deeper one goes,

Never returns, they say.

Silence reeks,

The cries—they fade away.

Pleasant to the eyes of the ocean,

Plenty for the fish to fly.

A bubble of clover,

Lying in the epitome of souls,

For the dead are meant to die.

The reflection feels heavier.

For the blood to fill the ocean

Is not a pipe dream—

Nor is it a mere hope.

Cry as the wreckage may,

Uncanny the ocean may be.

Prominent is the silence,

And the colours of blood may vary.

Reckoning is the silence,

Finding its own dark past.

Will it erupt—

In noise, at last?