Reid@YWP

I’m at the ocean again, 

and I feel at home again. 

The salt breeze always reminds me of seaweed, 

green string stitched into blue silk, 

brown tangles piled on the rocks' edge. 

Sometimes I don’t understand why 

We all try so hard 

To be something we are not 

So much so 

That 

Everyone 

Behind the walls, 

behind the fences. 

Behind the perfect, 

the imperfections. 

Swallow my pride, 

I am not 

The leaves have fallen. 

They are changing. 

It's almost that time of year again. 

Over there, a little boy  

sits alone, 

We are running from 

Ourselves 

Because we have built 

Ourselves 

As a single entity 

Connected by invisible strings