One mean promise that bursts its banks, causing
Two tides to roll steadily down either
Hill before they come together in the
Crevice underneath a mouth that speaks too
Much and fails to do enough. Walking the
Streets of Dublin, crying about living
And dying alone when a louder cry
Pierces the air and my eardrums - I turn
In hope only to find that a machine’s
Brakes cry louder than I do, earning the
Attention of passers-by more than a
Fellow human being can only wish
For, and once again I gaze across the sea,
Believing all is greener on distant
Shores, despite the news telling me different
Everyday. Ignorance is easier
Because giving up would mean allowing
This sea to swallow me whole,
Combining the streams on my cheeks with the
Relentless assault of wave after wave,
Until I end up isolated on
An island, truly alone, and with no
Way out except to lie down and close my
Eyes, lost in happier times with better
People who did quite well to disappear.
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