Is
Death is a woman pulled from the water when the dam breaks. Mollusk-skinned and adaptable. Constantly flowing- Curves that never really fit in to the stagnation of oppression. A current-sweeping amalgamation of all the sewage spewed in her direction.
Death is a woman cresting in constant renewal. Surging higher when on the brink of being towed under. Compassionate without courting false currencies. Deliberate in her gentle demand and refusing to be walked on. Buoyant amongst every barricade blustered before her. Especially those placed by bitter counterparts.
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