The seagulls drop dead on the salty beach,
And waves wash away their sweet expectations.
The fishes float to the surface, dying of thirst,
As I whisper the very last incantation.
It is not a scene, it is not an honest tragedy,
It is a simple sacrifice made by the banished.
Seven hundred creatures will die before me.
No one will stay alive until you finally vanish.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 