The sun stabs the darkness.
The water
Trickles off into the horizon,
Falling off the edge-
The beauty being pulled away.

Little pieces of sea glass,
Peaceful on the sizzling sand,
Stand up straight;
Wickedly jabbing and piercing my feet.

But why does something so exquisite,
With colors of gold, and green, and blue,
Filled with cloudiness of hopes and dreams,
Provide such pain?

Looking into the promises of tomorrow,
I realize
That nothing,
Really,
Is perfect.

The sun stabs the darkness,
But does it succeed?
For the day is not radiant with light,
Rather wicked,
Gloomy.

But yet,
With the darkness winning,
And the unwanted succeeding,
Today is still another day.
And tomorrow will be the same.

And how perfect,
Is that?