Part of the crew is part of the ship That's burning up while sinking down And racked apart by mutiny, But suspense creeps slimey Through dark-washed waters That only reflect horror on scrutiny. Hell on Earth can be borne by some, But in Davy Jones what dreams may come? Acclimation to retching discomfort Terrorizes the great unknown— Lovecraftian mirages mirror Damnation, But greater or lesser in trade? The reality requires a plunge Too fearful in depth for those deep in purgation. A thousand natural shocks create bloody vision That sadistically blinds the inquisitor's infinite indecision. The couragements given by those above water Disparagingly plod along long-lost coasts, At too safe a distance to be trustworthy hope. Tranquility treacherously despises dives down deep, It has more opportunity and less motivation— From footing sure, with someone to hold the rope. For good reason out there it's called the sea of troubles But the dark glass only returns deeper above-surface doubles. Ay, there's the rub. Dives from the shore return precious pearls But their refractions are bright and shallow, Thus the happy accumulate more in safety. To dive deep in the dark is a dangerous doom Without evidences from that silent land assuring Those treasures scale up with your vulnerability. Those who dive deep irreparably change, and cannot communicate well If dream's torments or shipwreck's promiseland swell. Floating on the border, sinking clinging to burnt, racked scraps, Castaways' calamity of so long life Atlantis' reality traps.
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