The Tide

The foam gently brushes over the tips of my toes
the bubbles slowly caress my skin
left her by the brink of an all time low
nothing I do is right, I can never win

A clean streak runs down my face
My hair is ruffled and my clothes a mess
Ran to the tide after my terrible chase
a pain strikes and an ache in my chest

I refuse to believe he's gone
I refuse to accept that he left
the tide slowly pulls itself in, and I slowly succumb to my fate.

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