island

An island is one of the lonliest placest on the earth. Surrounded, trapped on all sides by water. Nothing near but waves. Only company is that of other islands in an archipelago of which the island cannot touch nor communicate with. A breeze of solitude is in the air. Yet this solitude is not comforting. Nothing more then itself does the island have. The waves act as bars, chains, and disrespect. Stuck in a situation it never intended. Always planning on growing to be a tall prestigious mountain. It becomes seculuded. Hurricanes and tsunamis drown the island with fear and pain. It is unescapable, no other friends around. As though everything has fanished. Yet, it has always been alone. From the outside the island looks aesthetically pleasing, friendly, happy. However, this is far from the truth of the matter. The island is in lust of companionship. Companionship is out of reach beyond the fiersome blows of the sea. The deep thorn of a rose the island must feal deep within its heart. Knowing its own beauty and potential with such a road block. As though a prisinor in jail. As though someone who tried so hard but fell so short and is know locked behind bars. An island must have such mental hardships walking along the sandy shore. Yet their is something so prestige about the island in its misery. Maybe it is the way it manages to portray a place of joy and excitement. Maybe its the potential it has. Maybe it is the solitude. I have a fealing that places such as the himalayas feal predominant of islands. Because they have a higher elevation from sea level. These land locked mountains appear more respectable when in fact from base to summit they are sizeably smaller than islands. These appereances of being superior is only that after all an apperance of more accurately an illusion.
The island is strong and remarkable yet blood is dripping from it. It is hard to imagine a crazy place like an island caged up.