I try,
but I can't pull the waves over me
like I do my covers.
The ocean strips the blanket from my body
and I am left at the shore

I struggle to catch the ideas
that crash into my cognitive existence.
I am violently craving success,
desperately trying to forget a fear
of coming up short of accomplishment.

Past experiences of failure taint my ethic somedays.
Deep down I believe success may come.
I am persistent and dependable like
the waves unfailing to reach a shoreline.
I know the truth of chance falling into the lap
of a lucky son of a bitch.
I am no son
but my mother a bitch.

Dear Ocean,
have mercy on me.
Let me know the feeling
of pulling success over me
like I would my covers. 



Submitted: July 18, 2018

© Copyright 2022 Marcy Pine. All rights reserved.

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