The Sadist In The Waves

It's time we sound the alarm,

Yes, it's time to let the sirens blare.

To alert the disenchanted,

And inspire them to care

Whether it's for their self and preservation

Or just to watch what might occur

'Cause things may forever change

And be removed from what they were

It seems the dam has held its' own

It displays its' bravest face

But the tide is prone to climb

And by the noise we're hearing now,

This appear to be the case.

But you can only restrain the natural ways

If they consent to play along

Otherwise the sadist in the waves

Will unleash the depths of his addictions

Upon the unsuspecting masses

Who build the homes that become the graves

Where we will bury expectations

And accept living things as they are

Because we all want someone to love us

But we're prone to taking things too far

And just beyond that imagined ledge

Is where we often find the things

That have been allergic to our grasp

For what was felt like centuries

And that seems to be the pattern of the print

That some would call the fabric of our lives

Knowing disappointment can unravel everything

By removing pins that cut like knives

But my point in all of this,

May end up being just as lost as I have been

While seeing my youth draining into the bottom half

Of a glass that marks the hours

With a myriad of gentle grains

That unknowingly accumulate to mock

The seemingly everlasting duration of my pains

See, for years I have been lost in bitterness

In the center of a maelstrom self-designed

So many things failed to matter

Expect finding a way to justify the darkness in my mind

Hatred for self became the writing on the glass

That was invisible in natural light

But was well read when alone,

Causing reflections to warp and distort the present

Until it played out exactly like the past.

But that is neither here nor there,

'Cause the metaphoric, once-referenced dam

Is really the cage some would call my ribs

That contains a mortal, but hardened beast

Aching for release after a youth spent in bondage.

But the shackles still in place,

Have great reasons all their own.

For they know the beast was often wounded,

When it was left in any state but alone.

And the thought of love was a mirage

Like a phantom island in the sea

The answered prayer of drowning sailor

Hoping that it was paradise indeed

But that dreamboat was capsized by reality

And run aground by doubts

But now since the sight of love ,

Seems tangible and so very close

The beast begs for confirmation with its' shouts

But the soul brave enough to be

The one who will come and turn the key

Must be well aware of what she's doing

For the love within these walls

Would overwhelm and drown the weak

As well as it would truly suffocate the meek

But if this imagined goddess excels

At riding out the swells

Then maybe she could find a way to tame

The bleeding wounds, pouring out the shame

The beast has, for failing to live within the fields

Where some have been said to stop,

And smell the roses here abound

For it was too busy rebuilding all the pieces

That had fallen to the ground

But the previous siren I described

Is also a warning to the girl

For the only thing more powerful than this beastly love

Is its' unfiltered and potent hate

Distilled to make you regret your very birth

And it would certainly help you,

To shake in your fragile space,

And loudly curse about your fate.

But enough of this discussion,

The walls have proven themselves to be,

The opposite of steady.

So now they are coming down,

I am prepared to let the water take me.

The question is, darling...

Are you finally ready?