Misery Sea

This is a poem I wrote with inspiration from the song March to the Sea by Twenty One Pilots.

The splash of sea spray,
So dull, so gray.

The bleached coral on the dead sand,
Are the skulls of dreams tossed upon land.

What even is the sea?
A world of waves; or misery?

Broken souls stand still at the shore,
And turn to stone, dead to the core.

The tears of men, weeping in dismay,
May dry in the sun, but the salt will stay.

The ocean isn't a place to be free,
It's a graveyard drowned in misery.

The grief we throw in, eventually returns,
One man, then the other, it burns.

We line up, for a march of doom,
Jumping one by one, drowning in gloom.

What kills us is not the sea,
In truth, it's our own misery.

Hope is seemingly over rated,
Say this, and you'll be hated.

In painted masks we wave flags to the Sea,
Betray our spirit, and revel in misery.

It's not the gushing brine that drowns us,
It's the weight of our hopes and dreams.

Far from blind, but we pretend not to see,
It's blood and tears that forms the sea.

Our crushed bones become the sand,
Still ignorant we dance on land.

We are all drowning in our sea,
It's misery, that we pretend not to see.