Though I navigated their world with a poet’s compass, needle pointed northward towards the stars, sails set open to capture heaven’s winds. Clear fabric flapping; I found strangers laughing at what I had that they were lacking.
But with the quill of curiosity and the telescope of hope to chart the rough waters ahead of me, I became the sea scribe of humanity wanderer in love with those who will never love or know me.
Squid ink to parchment, I write to the complacent sending cresting waves of hope, wisdom, and love. The seas become the ocean. My arguments become less cogent. Till, my heart capsizes leaving no survivors in this saltwater wasteland.