Everybody alive owned a boat. Ships, sailboats, rowboats, dreadnoughts, gun ships, etc and the ocean was life. I saw old friends in battered ships, well off friends in large ships, some on cruise boats. I encountered strangers and familiar faces taking to the horizon and upgrading their ships, more color, bigger, faster, more impressive than ever before. Growing up my boat stayed a rowboat, sure it grew in size and the paint changed from colors yellow, white, black and then gray. The name of the dock where the traffic came from and left to the end of the sea was named Leaving hope.
Every once in a great while when the waters were smooth as a beautiful womans face I travel into the sea and no matter how much energy or time was put in whenever I looked back I could still see Leaving hope and I would return to the shore out of fear, out of sickness, out of wealth, lost in direction. Others that I recognize or aspire to be visit now and again and tell stories, I would gaze out into the bay and see my boat keeping afloat by old wood that creaks and whines when the water is harsh as they go on in their story.
Eventually I feel older even though I do not look it, my mind descents into a state of dull unfinished desire. This continues on for countless days until one day I wake up and Im the only one left, no other boats, no other people just an empty shore and my boat is sinking, all my friends and family have disappeared, no letter, no warning, no reason. The tide, somehow pulled my rowboat it into the middle of the sea and I see it slowly drift under the water. I sit on the shore in a lost daze for what feels like eternity I snap back into this reality when one of the oars washes in. The wood is broken and its shiny from the water and the sun beaming down on it creates a crying face.
The last thing I remember is looking into the horizon as the sky turns the greyest I have ever seen and the wind just blows enough to make sound as if its speaking the words, alone.
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The singer is a goddess, she is perfect!
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Working on a few projects, miss you all.
Every once in a great while when the waters were smooth as a beautiful womans face I travel into the sea and no matter how much energy or time was put in whenever I looked back I could still see Leaving hope and I would return to the shore out of fear, out of sickness, out of wealth, lost in direction. Others that I recognize or aspire to be visit now and again and tell stories, I would gaze out into the bay and see my boat keeping afloat by old wood that creaks and whines when the water is harsh as they go on in their story.
Eventually I feel older even though I do not look it, my mind descents into a state of dull unfinished desire. This continues on for countless days until one day I wake up and Im the only one left, no other boats, no other people just an empty shore and my boat is sinking, all my friends and family have disappeared, no letter, no warning, no reason. The tide, somehow pulled my rowboat it into the middle of the sea and I see it slowly drift under the water. I sit on the shore in a lost daze for what feels like eternity I snap back into this reality when one of the oars washes in. The wood is broken and its shiny from the water and the sun beaming down on it creates a crying face.
The last thing I remember is looking into the horizon as the sky turns the greyest I have ever seen and the wind just blows enough to make sound as if its speaking the words, alone.
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The singer is a goddess, she is perfect!
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Working on a few projects, miss you all.