poetry and prose

There's Something in the Water

There's something in the water.

I can tell.

It breathes, it sees, it looks. It believes, it imagines, it trusts.

It can scream, it can cry, it can laugh, smile, twinkle with its uneven, blue rimmed eyes.

It may overreact and can clutch on and never let go. It's a parasite, and a being that leans on others to get what it wants. It's confused, about everything, and what it's attracted to. It doesn't know - know really anything.

It can obtain and lose, it can catch and let go, it can choose to. It can choose it's own path.

But due to being a coward,

it chooses not to.

It chooses answers and then takes them back. It fades out suddenly, without really anybody noticing. It never believes anyone else, except for the scripts and words founded by others. Others it doesn't know. It can believe, but chooses it can't.

It can never know what's the truth or not. Whether it's actually helping or not. Whether it's beautiful or ugly. It chooses, though, to be pessimistic and through its eyes, realistic. It's ugly to itself. It's annoying to itself. And it believes that's how it is for every other being.

There's something in the water.

It's looking up at me. With its confused and confusing eyes. With its own look and style. With its own long hair.

With its own feelings and thoughts.

With her own life.

There's something in the water. Oh yeah,

it's me.