Poetry: Fighting Against the Tide

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Arrows go up and arrows go down
Breath varies from day to day
on whims beyond your control
on impulses beyond your understanding.

Fighting against the tidal wave
may seem like a useless exercise
brine chokes the life out of your lungs
as you drown in a sea of mediocrity

What sinks to the bottom
might rot and be forgotten
but it takes only one bubble
a piece of debris to wash on shore.

Nothing is ever completely gone
the cries of the innocent still ring out
the storm rages on the horizon
but it never stays there forever. 

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