I rage against the waves of anger,
Slashing away at the waterline,
With a sword of cork and wood.

Relentless is my fury against,
This opposition vast and immortal.


I spend every millisecond of my frail life,
Swinging and swiping, fighting imaginary ghosts.
My haggard arms wash away in the receding tides,
And my starved body collapses and goes underneath.
My gaunt figure goes lifeless, filling with the departing waters.

I died thinking I had won.