We glis­ten un­der­neath the mar­bled rays
of sun­shine-scat­tered cur­rents push­ing us,
to­gether synced in a unique dis­play,
em­bold­ened by the drive to co­a­lesce.
For bound are we into a vi­brant one,
that am­pli­fies what’s hid­den deep within
and razes self, no longer moth­ers’ sons.
Dis­plays of gall and might today begin.

But in a sly, macabre plot, I fear.
Today, to­mor­row, swarmed from right and left,
Es­cape, I wish. I’m told to per­se­vere.
The taunts, the lies per­form a nim­ble theft
of heart, of spirit, essence–I’m adrift.
Oh, Poke me till I bleed: a twisted gift.