The gray sky looks down on graves
And dances on cold bones.
No regards for what lies beneath.
Great White, you want to dance too.

Great White, my friend,
You're out of breath.
The red is catching up.
It's on your tail, sinks in your chest.
Can't get through the iron on your heart.

Great White, your wall has a fault,
I pray the red can't find it.
It always does, however hard you weld.
Great White, stop moving.

Great White, breathe in.
Great White, breathe deep.
Take in the red.
Let out the sun.
Swim no further.

Feel free to comment feedback, such as what you think the poem means, rage about the fact that this doesn't rhyme and has zero phrasing, and give criticism. That sentence was a mess and shouldn't even be considered a sentence. See you next time, hopefully.