Your sense of justice rages
like the sands curse the waves on the beach-
the catastrophe keeps on keeps on coming
and it isn’t fair.
face-first in the water,
gasp for half a mouthful of air before
lungs coated in salt, limbs helplessly
flung like a doll’s, any way,
a second’s respite’s almost hope until
and you swear you’ll never trust
any water, any lover, anyone,
because as soon as you start to believe,
you’re reminded that you can’t win
and a lull will come, and you’ll be tense.
They’ll tell you to let down your guard.
And by this time, while you suffocate
you’ll almost smile-
you can’t bring a storm with your attitude,
and you can’t stop it. It isn’t your fault
that you know what to wait for,
that you’ll always be