Betwixt the rushing, crushing waters sound
you here the cries of grinding earth
and in a moment they're swept away with the current.
The sound water makes is pretty, and serene now,
a brook babbling like a newborn
but under torrent, and hail, and fiery lightning lighting the sky;
it lends and unfriendly familiar air to otherwise lovely rain.
Turning the crystal to smokey gray ashen hues
the deafening sounds of ten thousand kamikaze drops
pounding into the pavement
the roaring cannonades far above like some ungodly war
some where you swear you can here men yelling
the smell of singed flesh and gunpowder
feels weighted by the moisture
a horrible wrenching sound
the main gun popped from its turret by a massive explosion of lighting
the water comes in
saltwater stinging the newly opened wounds
the dead float and sink at different levels
the ship goes down
257 go down with her
you find yourself crying
during a rainstorm