My Boat Rocks

My boat rocks.

Coarse and rough oceans shake the tides,

Saltwater slamming into the sides of the creaking, tearing vessel,

Its threat to tumble me into the stormy blue,

My boat rocks.

Winds churn the writhing waves,

The drops of frosty rain stream down the aching, ever-rotting wood,

And my hands clamp to the sides, white-knuckled,

My boat rocks.

Roaring into the echoing hollows of my new bones,

Here the heart beats its fastest,

A stomach-flipping twist to scrape my nails across the sea.

My boat rocks.

As the sea rips cold fingers from splinters,

The clouds are slit by rays of gold sunshine,

Buttery light glistening on warm waters,

My boat rocks.

A cloud above me, reflected below,

Boards beneath my back that let the water lap,

At the sides of a boat that rocks gently.

 

My boat rocks.

But it can’t drown me.

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About pasameerday

I haven't got a lot of time to keep you interested, so I'll be quick. I'm a writer from the UK, primarily of fantasy and sci-fi short stories, and occasionally of strange, nonsensical poetry. I like cats, the Sims, and pizza, and I go to sleep to the sound of a keyboard. I've been writing for my entire life; to be honest, I don't think I could ever bring myself to stop. I have a feeling I'm losing you, so I'll bring this to an end before you slowly start to back up, hoping I'll stop talking long enough for you to make a quick getaway. Wait... Where are you going? Hey! Wait! ... Stop!!
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