The torn waters

A single tear of mines falls into the sea & turns the oceans tide.
A bellowing depression sucking my soul deep into sadness is the whirlpooling vortex of the blue pulling the fisherman below.
My fingers wrinkled - haunted by the memory of my failure to hold water in my hands - happiness escapes me.
How do you calm the anger of water? The small crest of waves belong to those who relax their hearts & thoughts from thrashing.
How do you anger the calm of water? The large body of tidal waves belong to those who hearts are filled with rage & passion.
And my rage turn the blues calm of purity to pure vanity of pollution.
The same way the water doesn't exert effort to reflect the sun & the moon, the waters activity exerts no effort in reflecting the sum of my moods.

This poem is about: 
Me

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