Seperated from them, those that walk on the plains safe in their faith in their faith in fantastical things. I drift on the unlit shore of my being. The sea that surrounds me is dark and deep, holding only the shallowest of souls. Those who have fallen in and could not float to the top, so laden were they with vanity and hate. They sink into these waters that flow over quicksand and fire coral reefs. As they sink deeper, the oxygen is sucked from their minds and so there at the bottom of a sea of death is where they shall remain.
Reason for writing:
I wrote this poem one day when I thought I wanted to commit
suicide. (don't worry, i'm over it.)
I submited it because I want to get published someday, and
here is as good a place to start as any.
Birth sign: Not entered
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