A.N. I tried. Really, I did. Just sounds off, somehow. 

The lights in the lagoon burn bloody, bright red

Oh, I could be beautiful, but I can’t, for I’m dead

The corpses around me are no more than bones

Feeding the fish with their spines smashed on stones

Can you hear the sirens, with their spell-binding songs?

They make you feel light, as if you’ll never know wrong

I could have sung with them, if only I tried

But I couldn’t keep up with the pace, so I died

Now I lie alone in this blood-red lagoon

Where no eyes will pierce, no, not even the moon’s

The sirens will sing to the sailors who dare

To approach their lagoon, and get caught in their snare

And then they, too, will languish in the bloody lagoon

Never to witness the light of the moon

They will rot down here, with old Davy Jones,

And I will lie with them, just an assortment of bones


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