A gasp for breath,
a silent moan,
burbled underwater tones.
My evil has of yet not shown,
but soon I shall be drowning Joan.
With constant pressure on her neck,
she scratches claws and tries to kick,
becoming underwater sick,
while wishing she were home.
My evil has of yet not shown,
but soon I shall be drowning Joan.
Flesh of pale to turn to blue,
flushing out all fear she knew,
something in this sick is true.
No tears for no more sadness.
Has of now she floats alone,
for I have finished drowning Joan...
*Posted with a special thanks to Janice Etienne*
saint cynosure ( Ken Bennight )
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/drowning-joan/
