It is the color of serenity,
of blissful solitude.
Unwashed, I watch in guilty tranquility.
Away from the vicissitude masked by quietude.
The sea endlessly beckons,
its rolling waves serenading my wandering soul.
It is a trap, I though reckon,
knowing many souls it once stole.
But what if the sea is my salvation?
What if only it can wash what weighs me down?
But I am afraid, beyond consolation —
What if the sea is but a ghost town?
I shall allow the sea to wash me someday.
I shall wash myself, but not today.