Sitting by the beach
I write, not of love
Not of sadness,
But of rage.
The tide rolls in
And the message you sent me
Gets carried away.
I did not want to be found.
For I barely know myself.
Night continues, and I become
Angry at the world.
Why do some suffer for doing good
Why do some do bad and get
Rewarded?
Why does love fail,
When we need it the most?
We break and bend,
And do it all again.
For a hallow dream
Made for empty people.
Hanging on to the promise
Of a better life.
One filled with clear skies
And rose gardens.
I stand and leave.
My tears flowing into the ocean.
The rage has left.
All that is there is a
Heaviness I no longer ignore.
