I find an old shell.
A Conch,
Wrapped in shitty barnacles,
and covered in worm-like
dead things: Ropes.
At first I thought it was
another piece of horse dung,
the way it lulled at the
edge of the sea and rolled
gently forth and back - like something
Not quite liquid.
But I came closer,
Through the flies to see the
swirl shape, hear the ocean,
grasp the ragged edges:
black, rusty, crusted over...
You are still Beautiful -
Unique Design shifted to the
Dark Side...
not evil.
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