Sea Foam
From the beginning of my life I was known,
to be of the same cloth as my father,
as he was of his when he had yet grown.
I was nothing short of a growing bother,
eager to set sail before I could walk.
Stepping into the shoes of my grandfather.
Diving into water with an icy shock.
Holding my breath until it was no more.
Coming to the surface, too cold to talk.
Passing the exams and scrubbing the floor,
serving my country but not for her welfare.
For the world they spoke of beyond the shore.
Ships of great breadth they'd put in my care,
towering as horizontal creatures.
Beasts that best not be called from their lair.
How could we have known, the ocean's features
making their ways to the bright surface above.
Brought about by our ambivalent preachers.
So they breached to the land that we all love
and they consumed everything they could,
eating men and women with beaks of a dove.
So as our land fell, how should I have stood.
A broken man all alone in the sea.
The crashing of waves with bits of burnt wood.
I often daydream of what we could be.
Had the monsters not come and burned us.
The places we could travel, the sights we could see.
I am so cold now, but I mustn't fuss,
they can smell with long tendrils so close.
I'd rather they not find me, still just a cuss.
For many nights I've wept, soaked through my clothes.
Pray to the God that left, that I could go home.
But not once have the writhing masses froze.
For now it seems the ocean is where I roam,
as I wait to die amongst the green sea foam.
submitted by /u/DillonArthurWrites
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