Misery, thou art the sea,
Medium of sail,
Thy mighty expanse engages,
Thou art but a reflection of our deeds,
Yield thee a passage,
Oars hardly a steer,
To ride thy mighty steed,
Hardly a seafarer's match.
Misery, a state of mind,
Decreed, escape not thee,
Laden onboard the tide,
The occasional crest but lofts,
Buoys us to an air of respite,
Momentarily setting us free only to embrace us back,
Teasing, till such time of deliverance,
When washed ashore.
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