Stumbling, falling and getting up,
Again and again,
Brushing of the dust as best as I can,
But wounds stay, fade to scars, no time to cry, the mouth stays shut.
Lifting my head,
Turning to the sea beside me,
"It's just a phase.", they said,
But a phase has an end, which I can't see.
The endless ocean in front of me,
Nothing but raging water, crushing waves, that's all I see.
The setting sun, coloring the ocean,
Transforming it into burning gold.
There's no wind now, so everything that once was in motion,
is now standing still, which makes it seem so lonely'n cold.
The bold motion causes fright,
But so does the silence.
Is there a solution in sight?
At that moment I noticed, I found out the truth,
That the turbulent ocean wasn't beside but inside me.
That it's my task, my job to soothe
the raging storm inside,
I just needed to see.
____
This is a little older. About a year or so.
I don't even know if this makes sense to anybody. I just felt like posting it.
