Chicano Poet

Saturday, March 01, 2014

The Water

The water was like ink the way it curled around my feet.
Engulfing me like an insult playing on repeat.
My fears began to swim and my thoughts simply dreams,
I was clearly going mad,
And tearing at the seams.
There was a distinct smell of salt and seaweed all the same,
Although maybe this was another of my mind’s mad game.
The game to make me see strange things that I
wasn’t sure were there.
Dismissing all the good things like I didn’t even care.
The water was like a feeling warm but slightly cold,
With an air of rotting seaweed and a sea shore lined with mould.
I’d never know why I’m here,
Or even if I was,
My mind was just an illusion,

My life a big because.

Ali Gibson is a sixteen year old poet
from Northen Ireland. Her book is
on Amazon. Check out more poems there.


Post a Comment

<< Home