Thoughts scuttle across
A wide expanse
Fall victim to the toss
Of the tides stance
A barnacle on a whale
Drowning alive
Hear it in it's jail
For what does it survive
The deeper it dives
The less is understood
About their long lives
Floating like driftwood
The smallest of hints
In a faraway place so full
Of a river of footprints
But nothing compares to the pull
Of blood heavier than water,
Flailing flesh sinking
It's own kind of slaughter.
But I can't help thinking
Of why the dolphin swims
Forward, without blinking
Victim to it's own fins
With lack of endless thinking.
YOU ARE READING
poems i came up with at 3 am
شِعرbit of a dark/random poetry dump, might be a bit intense and nonsensical at times,
