An extract from a book i'll never write | Poetry |

Eleven: SAVE ME

I sit on a boat fit for one, placed on the vast ocean of stranger.

My vessel has almost been destroyed by there endless torment, their arms try to reach up and pull me down into their inferno purgatory.

I can't escape them, however much I try it is an endless and winless battle that I have to fight. I only know that they are here to torment me and send me into a bottomless pit of darkness ripping out all the light that I have inside of me, all the good that I possess will be taken away by an unwanted and unseen force and somehow I know that they would never let me escape.

I am alone, drifting through time. I am not needed to anyone it seems.

Even when I call out into the ocean, I go unnoticed. They have never answered my call when I scream for anyone to help me through this hell im living, so why should I bother? All they do is try to grab me and push me out of my boat fit for one.

Sometimes the reflections on the ocean's surface resemble something quite on unusual colour: Blood. When the sun about to ries, the waves become violent and are transformed into murders. On days when I am at my lowest when I am completely alone and even the shadows have disappeared from view, I believe that's it's my blood that has stained the ocean that I live and drift upon

My shadow is my only company.

Or at least the only one that doesn't want to hurt me.

I hope.