A Kid at the Beach

Thinking Out

Once there was a boy, who lived near a bay.

He was neither short nor tall, he was just okay.

He walked through the beach, like a kid in summer.

He thought life sucks, and said "this is a bummer".

Until he looked and saw up in the sky.

The shimmering moon, so bright, so high.

It was neither dark, nor bright. The sun was setting, "but it's alright".

He said as he walked down the beach, looking left and right.

Thinking how life could be okay, or just right?

With the problems he faced, so big, so difficult.

He wonders to himself, shouldn't he be in a cult?

A cult of people who share the same views.

The views of life that he thought to be few.

So few he was angered beyond compare.

But in the end, he just didn't care.

He didn't care enough to go do what's due.

To go back home with a plastic full of glue.

For an art project for his brother, who's waiting since 2.

And a basket of groceries and some vegetables too.

He's like his family's maid, so brave, so bold.

But he thinks otherwise, how could his parent's be so cold?

"Am I just an orphan?" He asks as he kicked a shell.

That he watched as it tumble, fumble and fell.

It tumbled so far that it fell from the cliff.

Just 2 feet high, not that tall, catch my drift?

"Or maybe I'm just that" he thought some more.

"I'm that kind of child" thoughts filled him to the core.

It was obvious he thought, that he was that kind of child.

It came when a wave crashed on, it was rough but mild.

He looked back and stared at the path he walked on.

He saw his footprints on the sand, it wasn't that fun.

He watched it disappear as the waves eat them fresh.

Like sharks, or piranhas that eat anything with flesh.

He pondered his problem for a moment and stopped.

"That is petty" he concluded as he just stood and not hopped.

He pursed his lip rightward up, towards the sun setting and saw a cup.

An empty cup of juice at the shore, "litter" he said, stating the obvious once more.

He picked the litter up and threw it in the trash, "what a good boy" he heard from a guy named ash.

He ignored the guy's comment and straddled along, almost halfway down the beach, "it wasn't that long".

He thought as he carried the bags and dragged them together. "I think it won't break" he thought, "whatever".

He's not an adult, but not a kid. Is what he says.

"I'm much more better" or so his mother says.

He stretched his arms, high above his head, and yawned and thought, is this the end?

The end of another day while walking on the beach.

At least he had fun, then he continued towards east.

To where his home was, that is near the beach, where he could go to, anytime, with no breach.

No coast guard, no nothing. Just the ocean and the waves crashing.

At dark he would sneak there, but not swim, "it's dangerous".

He thought, and went in his house, his home, feeling glamourous.

As he ends his day in his bed with a lamp, he planned his day ahead, thinking he should make a camp.

He heard his father pushing a pump, squeezing the rubber, taking off the hump.

He realized it's their raft. A small old but sturdy raft. He then planned something else to craft. For tomorrow, something big, at the aft.

-End-