My mind crashes like the waves upon shore.
Before the wave crests it’s calm, this, the day.
Yet there is rarely an evening I sleep well anymore.
For the wave crashes, the calm fades away.
In between the waves thus in the riptide,
pulling me to sea never to be found,
and there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
Just stand here feeling mentally unsound,
but unlike the sea my mind won’t recede,
forever stuck within a tide, miles high.
Soon enough the current will intercede,
leaving me on the shore wondering why.
See in the horizon a peaking wave
soon to submerge me to my ocean grave.
The Quill 