Ruby relentlessly reflected regarding to where she would next set.

Sans sails, she felt sured as shored [if not bored on board] for procuring gets yet.

Should she skinny sharkless swim for rarest rewards of still riskiest bet?

Or, drown in her decked despondency tangled so in neuroticism’s net?

Surely, buoy’s bright would benefit more than neon, nitid nails she vet.

Then, horizon, lined in silver, compassing compassion? Go, fret—she’ll let. ; )