The open sea is so much more
Terrifying
Even rosy fingered dawn can't soften
Its wild colour of Beryl
I've been bathing in a pond
My whole life, thinking that it would
Be alright if my feet touched the bottom
A faint beam of light was all I needed to
Remember how to surface from
The shadows
Perhaps I've been wallowing
Knee deep in self laceration, that I
Forgot that the world owes me no
Wings and
No paddles
No shoes
And no saddles
It tastes of salt ,even from the cradle of
Comfort
Bitterness finds its way into one's mouth
Even when they renounce living for grand things
These waves must be conquered, they say
A ship at the harbor is safe but maybe
That's what I was made for , you know
Painting with the brush of lamentation
What I see
From the shore.
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