It’s the feeling of being borne back,
hidden beneath solace but thirsting to
be risen among the ashes of a shy tide.
It’s that same feeling that hushes me to
rest yet convulses me to wake. So I
wait here for the peak of that same
feeling to come simmering along at its
fullest potential, to drive me back into myself,
to find something, grasp it, and decide
whether to **** or breathe it to life.
This is what finding yourself is; a war waiting
to be won, blood needing to be shed,
sacrifices calling during the sweetest of dreams.
so we fight, ourselves caught in the riptide,
to find and to be found.