A Brutal Reality

The tide is soaring, yet above, is the clear eye
The moonlight within.
It allures the water; whispering to come closer
until a certain moment to stop and cease.
Water begins to descend; to the real world it plummets.
Flipped and torn, the wave harasses
For a breath of air is turned to ashes.
Oh dear, oh dear this nightmare isn't real
escape the slumber for all to heal.
This woe must be fake; this dolor cannot be true
how can such suffering awake from the sleep.
Leaving searing aches and dying agonies
in a place which is empty with nothing to take.
These eyes of mine must be unsealed to find the truth of the fake
but such I find a bewildering discovery
which questions my existence and recovery; I find, oh find to my disbelief
that these eyes of mine haven't been sheathed.


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