Within my own little satellite,
I ward off the flowing tide.
When the tide falls,
I am beached, exposed.

In my bubble,
My solemnly solitary silence
Screams unspoken insults,
Hoping for me to step outside
And drown once more.

I want to open my door,
Especially when I’m with them,
But I always shut it more.
An unwanted reaction,
With fragmented reasoning.

Maybe they’ll step inside
And give me a hand.

Maybe I should just grow some fins.