sorry for the pain I may cause you
when I bleed from the mountains that
birthed me and the oceans which
sing with each waving tide.
my lineage is short and damaged
broken glass bottles of alcohol
on the sand floor
each step more and more bloodier.
the pain I cause to which you know
is the one I suffer quite a lot
i suffer from feeling it all too much..
the wind, the shallow breathing of each insect,
the cracks we make when we lay the towel
on the sand,
I feel it see it love it way too much..
more of the pain I self inflict it's too constant
I can hear it pumping
throbbing
and I do nothing.
much we do.
everyone is addicted
I crack my bones in hopes
I can fix the cracks my blood opens
but I can't.
I will never be able to heal what was created
the mountains will never move
they stay they may shift and sway but
those mountains are rooted with
my bloods foundation
much like our problems they never leave
us alone a constant repetition of relapse.
I can't paint you pictures
as well as a painter, but my words can't
describe the beauty of crossing the island
of my country seeing the mountains shape
then it too hide the ocean.
each step and step
we do a lot for nothing.