The ocean

The ocean I always had a fear of the ocean you know? Those deep dark tides pulling you in The darkness lurking beneath the horizon But oh how beautiful it is Pulling me closer and closer Until my feet feel the shore going back home then coming back to me for a short moment before leaving again I hated the ocean. For looking so beautiful and luring me in Then drowning me. Taking all the air out my lungs. A thief in the night, stealing my one and only breathe But for some I don’t blame the ocean For some reason i even feel sorrow for the ocean. The pollution it’s given and forced to endure and the only help it ever gets is from people. The same people that polluted her. She is scared too. Scared on who to trust. Not knowing who’s bringing love, and who’s bringing poison masked as care. She waits in silence, swallowing secrets and oil spills, never sure if the next hand reaching out is there to heal her or hurt her. It’s no wonder she drowns people. She’s trying to survive her own demise—?trying to save herself?the only way she knows how. By using people,?just like she’s been used. The one person who came and picked trash from her waters?gave the ocean hope—?a flicker of possibility that she could be saved. But she was wrong. That small act of kindness,?the only kind she’d ever known,?felt like everything.?It made her believe.?Hope bloomed— hope that one day she’d be clean again,?that people wouldn’t fear her touch She began to think every human who came near was there to help.?And that hope consumed her,?made her reach out blindly—?sometimes hurting those she only meant to welcome. All she ever wanted was to be cleansed. To be seen, not as a soul-stealing tide,?but as the pure, aching soul?she’s always been beneath the surface. A darkness waiting to be shown light not to be feared, but understood. A depth that holds pain, yes, but also beauty, waiting for someone brave enough to dive in and stay