|| Noun ||

Like a piece of shipwreck I float

Up. Down. Up. Down. Where do I go?

Neither shore nor help have my eyes set upon

Along with the tirade I flow

Have I nowhere to be?

Have I nowhere to live?

I chanced upon a lone island

And as though I’ve lost touch with the world outside –

I eat and I sleep when others do not –

I have turned rogue.

I spot another one of the debris –

It washed ashore onto my island.

I know not what to do

But a voice nags in my head like residue

So I took it into my care

Like a miscarriaged mother reunited with her stale born child.

Oh how my cheeks burn!

Those feelings that once caused me to drown

They healed my injured butterflies

Now they make an awful lot of sound.

Have I somewhere to be?

Have I somewhere to live?

Surely for two wrecks to meet

They both have something to give

To him I heal

To me he comforts

And although damaged by the waves

We are parallel in how deep we hurt

– a.h.


Though it must have hurt and though it still does, one is destined to meet another who equals in emotions and situation. Another that patches up your hole not by stuffing it with cement, but with the emptiness from his own hole.

” ‎Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. ” – Voltaire


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