The water was like ink the way it curled around my feet.
Engulfing me like an insult playing on repeat.
My fears began to swim and my thoughts simply dreams,
I was clearly going mad,
And tearing at the seams.
There was a distinct smell of salt and seaweed all the same,
Although maybe this was another of my mind’s mad game.
The game to make me see strange things that I
wasn’t sure were there.
Dismissing all the good things like I didn’t even care.
The water was like a feeling warm but slightly cold,
With an air of rotting seaweed and a sea shore lined with mould.
I’d never know why I’m here,
Or even if I was,
My mind was just an illusion,
My life a big because.
Ali Gibson is a sixteen year old poet
from Northen Ireland. Her book is
on Amazon. Check out more poems there.