When the storm starts churning,
The waves get rough,
Our sails start ripping,
And life gets tough.
Water rushes in,
As we rush to the bow,
But despite our best efforts,
It's as if we're anchors down.
While I'm pulling one sail,
And you're pulling another,
We can't seem to coordinate,
Just fighting one another.
I call out for help,
But it's a cry you can't hear,
I'm still shoveling water,
While you try to steer.
The winds keep on whipping,
Thunder cracks and booms,
Lightning sparks all around us,
As you promise "We'll make it through."
But we're no match for this storm,
As our ship creaks and pleas,
And we slowly go under, like our love,
To be forever lost at sea.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Me
PoetryThis is a continuation of Poured Out on Paper. Filled with happiness, love, anger, and lust, here's to another poetry book, and to a whole new adventure... (:
