I will not merge gently into the sea.
I will write words in rhythmic order.
Write about me and everything.
An odd feeling of introspective power.
That soothe like chocolate to one's ears.
And I will write in fear... but of what?
The cold, robotic, unemotional people.
Who take the tides of life like a cork,
bobbing on a ripple.
But I ride on top of the waves,
ram-shackled by the rocks.
And stalled by the small,
mean pebbles of events.
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