Frame of mine now up in smoke
Time to step up but I always choke
Find a way through the maze guess I won’t
As I lose my ability to float
The waves start to toss me around
As I feel myself beginning to drown
Anchored - bottom of the sound
Wearing the mask of a clown
Said ‘there’s no need to fret
The waves were just to get your feet wet
Using your writing as the outlet
Into the hammock you sit’.
~I.S.~