march fourteenth two thousand nineteen
my mind creates the unprecedented scene
i feel as though im losing my mind
all my strings are beginning to unwind
my brain creates spontaneous romanticism
but im lacking the physical symbolism
as if im a figurehead at the bow of a ship
i can look at the lovely sea but cannot go for a dip
i may not lay hands on the seaweed
it's all in my head, indeed
and if the whales will sing or cry
i shall wish to sing back a lullaby
and if the ship shall sink all the way below
it appears that i will be the first to go
there is so much that should be done
but i cannot ever outrun the sun
and when mr. moon comes out to shine
that is when my thoughts start to resign
all i can see is the glimmer of the sea
all i can feel is the silent, overpowering plea
