I’m like the heavy bulk of a sinking ship
Riding on me is my self esteem
Drowning in the negativity
First bow then stern
Look at me vanish
Let me be home to the fishes now
Let wolves feed on my corpse.
Someone told me that they wished they were there to save Sylvia, it made me smile because really we all wish we were. But it actually wasn’t possible. I can’t say for sure if it was or wasn’t, but for me I think it wasn’t. Not because she was beyond hope, but because you couldn’t see.
Everyday thousands pass us, sad and unhappy, and yet we are helpless, moving with our lives, living our struggle. I see it impossible to say to someone what I really feel, because frankly I don’t know what I feel. One day I’m happy, in the sun, dancing, listening to birds, lying down in the grass, being one of those indomitable ones of nature, and a heart which echoes the unlimited possibilities. And the second day, here I am, lying in my dark room, smelly bed sheets, worse self confidence and bleak prospects. It is not like I don’t have friends, or getting more friends will make it better. I really don’t know what will.
I just know this is how I am, and thousands pass me every day, they not helping me, me not helping them, each stuck in our own storm, quivering in life.
( Image is Winslow Homer’s The Gulf Stream)
(You can find more by this author on- http://tanvikusum.wordpress.com/)