Sharp cold crashing waves.

They rush over me.

They drag me under.

Until I reach the bottom.

The ground with sand 

coursely rubbing against my skin,

getting into my mouth and eyes,

leaving a harsh residue all over me.

But I see sunlight

and I rise,

The oxygen filling my lungs.

Seagulls overhead make their beautiful call.

The warmth of the sun heating my entire body,

a moment of pure bliss and tranquility.

But just then another wave comes,

and this time maybe I won't rise.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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