I have an island
I bet you think I'm rich.
I'm really not.

I have an island.
People come and go.
But I'm the only one who stays.

Boats come in and out,
drifting by.
I meet people for years, or for hours,
but I feel a loss as they go.

I am an island.
All alone.
People come and go.
They never stay long.

For them,
I'm a tropical vacation, a place to get away from their problems.

But I was made of a volcano.
I crumble with every wave.
Pieces of me break off.
But I try to remain

tropical.