I Hate Poetry.

1/1/23
it seems i only care when the rivers run south;
it seems i don't think
when i split your seas—
an inexperienced sailor—
but your tides
help me recognize
who i truly be.
your waves caress my skin,
their crashes whispering in my ears,
the riptides pulling me in.
i only care when the tides too high,
when the storm comes over:
it's so hard to navigate,
the only sorry one when i'm caught on the run
but this doesn't stop me,
i will keep trying ,
unconsciously ,
i love the danger of the water,
so i know,
this sea is right for me.