Time: Before she found the Memory Stone
Place: Beach
What happens when the gentle whisper of the wind,
Calls out to step towards the vicious waves?
What happens when the voice of reason,
Decided to fade and compel?
What happens when the terrors of the sea,
Washes away the devastation I feel?
What happens when my fire extinguishers,
Into the ashes that I am now?
Die, the wind whispers to me as I walk to the coast,
Die, the wind whispers to me as I watch Trixie boast,
Die, the wind whispers to me as I see the sun setting in the West,
Die, the wind whispers to me as I consider that dying may be for the best,
My soul feels hollow,
My breath feels ragged,
My heart feels tired,
My eyes feels sore,
I walk to the cliff and look down,
To the jagged rocks that were contrast to the round,
I think of my blood splattered on my rocks,
As my funeral coffin would lock,
I step backwards and shake my head,
No, I decide, I won’t.
It’s not time yet