My Island

I wrote this while I was pondering the place where I live. Please give me some advice to make it better!

Sometimes I feel as

If an island,

Alone,

Drifting in a sea of disparity

And wasteful pleasures,

A world where the mind

Is left drifting and

The heart sputters out

In the cold and

Unforgiving water.

The storms of doubt whip

About my palms,

Harsh

And biting and cruel.

The gentle sway replaced

By the constant flail,

Until no leaves remain,

And they rot away,

Unable to feed on the light

Of the Sun's warm glow.

I fear, if the worst does come,

That the palms die,

Withered,

And my sands recede

To the surf of the sea,

Sloshed away until nothing

Remains of my island

But the dark blue of ocean,

And the scent of brine,

Strong as the sea is vast.

Author's Note

I feel like some of my language is weak. Any suggestions?