I wrote this poem in the middle of the night. That week, I’d had a series of strange dreams, all somehow involving the sea and my submarine. At the time, the pressure to succeed in every aspect of my life and to make something of myself was at an all-time high. The time became a key step in me later accepting my flaws and realizing I will struggle at every avenue in life. I think we all want to be gorgeous, happy, and clever all the time. But writing this has taught me that, even if I never leave the ocean floor, I’ve done all I could do. That must be worth something.
Every night.
Laying deep-sea
thoughts to hang dry,
With every twist of fate,
my mind goes silent,
blinking:
watching each doubt
swim by.
All the currents
take me;
choking on the ever-high tide.
Resting
is only ever trying to escape the ocean floor.
Every climb to
where the waves hug sunlight and shore
becomes defeat.
The radar,
the watchmen,
civilisation
make themselves aware.
All of the failures
flaw so obviously,
each time my
submarine
fights
to reach
land, life
and air.
