Sometimes I imagine us holding hands,
Walking along the harbor:
You, telling stories of all these lost years
like a pelican begging for food
Making music out of my invisible tears
But maybe instead of holding your hand
I should hold on to the future
And stop chasing your footprints in the sand
Only to be led nowhere.
I will no longer swim in these tears.
I have felt the ache of the salt burn on my skin for far too long.
It’s not worth docking on this pier
If you don’t treasure me like the shells along your shore.
So I set sail.
I will find a new island to call my own &
Sculpt the land like shaping clay on a pottery wheel.
I will treasure all of my shells and secrets
The way you did not treasure me.
And for once, I will command the sea.
my demon is anger.
it rises and erupts in me;
i’m no longer a quiet, cool ocean,
but a fiery, angry volcano.
my demon escapes when i am weakest.
it wants me to be strong,
to be the best.
my demon is my curse.
it’s a part of me.
it makes me, me,
but i think it’s ****.
i want to put an end to the anger,
but with two small hands
i can’t possibly stop a volcano.
i really wanted to see what people though of this. :/ it truly came from the bottom of my heart and i honestly don't know if it is quality poetry.