They Come, They Go

My Mind is a small boat,

Eager to search distant seas,

But my Thoughts are a hurricane

Stealing happiness from me.

 

The rain pelts my flesh,

Like blubbering tears do to linen

I cower in the hull,

My soul unfairly a prison.

 

I tremble at death –

There is no escaping these swells.

The wind bellows my blunders

And tears my poor boat at her sail.

 

Please don’t let this be the end!

And the heart seems to listen

She softens her drops

As if asking to be forgiven.

 

And the waves begin to calm

The haze is subsiding,

I steer my boat Eastward,

In control of my own guiding.

 

I look out at the plain,

Its flatness refreshing

And until the next storm,

My focus solely on progressing.

 

-Amanda Peters

 

 

Author: Amanda Peters

My name is Amanda and this is my blog where I write about my current musings on everything art, culture, fashion, literature, and film.

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