A waste,
a viral infection
that needs to hide its face.
Their taunts,
that forever haunt,
the vaccine.
It becomes routine,
so unseen
that it’s now the way I think,
the air I breathe,
the truth and fate,
the self-fulfilled hate
I choke on as I seek a way to escape.
Each tidal wave
becomes a task to make
a dry mask to fake
my way around you (for your sake).
And just as the ocean throes
start to leave me cold,
pulled to sea alone,
with no way home,
daybreak cracks
and light comes back.
A sigh of relief,
of release,
as the glow, the heat,
drives away the crushing deep.
Still…
I need a sign, a dream,
something to see,
to make me believe,
this was meant for me.