I am floating on my back,
Upon this sea of green envy,
Staring at a broken blue sky,
Only occasionally struggling,
When it serves my own interests,
Or when the waves come crashing,
Without even asking,
Drowning me casually, like a friend,
And I can then say unsarcastically,
That the sky is a beautiful because it is blue,
Even though it isn’t really really blue,
More a fragmented reality,
Perceived by limited perspectives,
Just as the sea isn’t really green,
It’s really just a metaphor,
(Although it feels often more real than reality),
And that’s why I’m trapped in the middle:
Floating on my back,
Upon a sea of green envy,
Staring at a broken blue sky.
Discarded Recollections 