On the Sea of Melancholy
I'm wasted. What is left of me,
Caressed by crushing, weeping waves
On the sea of melancholy?
Washed up in the wreck of worry
That concern's rising tide has gave,
I'm wasted. What is left of me?
The sky appears blue and bloody.
The sun sinks like shark bait behaves
On the sea of melancholy.
The sharp crosswind cuts me, chilly.
I'm gutted by remorse's shave.
I'm wasted. What is left of me?
Foggy tropes sound within the flurry
Of a despairing storm's grand stave
On the sea of melancholy.
The tidal stream seems tied, knotty,
Bounding me to a submerged grave.
I'm wasted. What is left of me
On the sea of melancholy?
poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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