I am water

I am dismal, tainted, and mistreated.  

I am blocked, forced, and trapped.

I am poisoned, dull, and weary.

This is what you’ve made me.

But I am still alive. You can make me suffer, torture me and ruin me. But I will live forever. Even if in some places I vanish or perhaps freeze entirely, I will always be somewhere. You cannot kill me. My origin is a force to be reckoned with, bigger than you’ll ever be and more vast than the extent of your imagination.

I’m a home for some, a source of peace for others. A great way to enjoy a hobby and a place to turn to when you need to cool off. To watch me is comforting, ask anyone, for no one has not witnessed my immaculate beauty. Even though I am different everywhere, treated in a number of ways, I am the same.   

I flow through the structures of your homes, wrestled to submission by your hands, condemned for as long as you stand. To escape, to be free, be what I was once before, is what I dream to be.

To be clean, transparent and brimming with life.

To be respected, pure and cared for.

To be beautiful, refreshed and loved.

Is what I dream to be.

I could be all those things if you take care of me. It’s not too late. Change for me, give me some tender love and care, and appreciate my abilities. I have witnessed amazing, devastating, life-altering events, and the growth of your society in my long existence.

One day you’ll die, as most have done before you, so why wait for your children to realise how much you need me? Start now so the future is brighter, so you can be remembered as my friend, so you can live on through me.

For I am the water that flows through your rivers, feeding your lakes, ponds, and canals. So listen closely to what I’m trying to say, open your eyes and see my essence, feel my calming touch and remember that without me, you are nothing.

I will be glorious, shimmering and divine.

I will be transcendent, bewitching and majestic.

I will be striking, enthralling and breath-taking.

My power will know no bounds.

Ocean

A home to the most magnificent creatures on this planet called Earth, and like many of mankind's pointless in denial self-destruction, we are murdering it.
These creatures. The ones we fish to feed, hunt to kill, farm to collect 'medicine', abduct for entertainment, capture to experiment, whilst contaminating their habitats for our own greed.
I have never been so glad that we have never reached the bottom of the ocean. I fear, on the day that we do, our curiosity will kill us and satisfaction will most definitely- not bring us back.
In those pits that the sun cannot reach, is mankind's master, our destroyer, the oceans justifiable vengeance.
Fish are not just food, sharks are not demons, killer whales are not show toys and their reefs are not replaceable. These creatures will dance for you if you let them, if you leave them in their homes.
The definition of serene beauty is things we cannot control.

Teenage Feelings - The Fall

It's not like me. To fall, into a hole so enticing, so deep, so empty with only one possible ending.
"It's so teenager of you."
But it's not like me.
I mean, yes, I know this hole. I am familiar. But I still haven't found a way to cling to the sides, to stop the fall, to "get a grip".
It's not like me.
I shouldn't fall.
I desire the roots of a tree to wrap around me, holding me in place where everything is motionless. Where time passes, yes, but I am stable. I am as confident as that tree to stay where I am and not let anyone sway me. Not unless they had a very big chainsaw, that is.
Stillness.
Instead, I fall.
Losing my grip, a quick slip of the hand when I was peacefully content with the world. The world of me. Losing my grip on the hopes of being carefree. Dropping into this known hole where hearts crumble.
The voice lulls me, a different voice than before, but nonetheless a deathly voice- so soothing and calm and deceiving. Eyes that piece through me, tearing me in two and paralysing me while I stare back, letting it take me, willing me to fall even deeper.
I must stop.
Small invisible cuts scrape away at my skin, almost covering every inch, hidden beneath a smile of optimism. I don't want to feel this- this ache, this wanting for what can never be.
I'm alone in this perpetual nightmare called lust. While I glare enviously at those that have someone to fall with- someone to hold their hand as they break like glass.
I am imperfect in every way that he is perfect.
There is no such thing as love, I tell myself. Only lust. When you fall into the pit of love, there is no recovery. So I convince myself, there is only lust- the need for something that will never be mine.
To be as stable and unwavering as a tree is a dream, to not move until forced to. To be glued to those roots, trapped in the embrace of loneliness, where my heart is protected from the inevitable.
But those piercing eyes and voice that melts the pain in my chest, it's okay to enjoy it for now though right?
When I reach the bottom with a thud or crash, laying there in the dirt and ash, another hollowness inside me.
At least I enjoyed the fall, before I reached the end.