When I am sad,

I think,

Of the ocean.

How no matter how many times it is sent away,

It always comes back.

No matter how many times it is shoved,

It always tries again,

Never giving up.

I want to be the ocean.

Carrying bits of sand,

And seashells,

Along with me.

Parts of a shattered,

Broken past,

That all equal something remarkably beautiful.

I want to make my own horizon,

Meet my land,

No matter how many times I am rejected,

Because I deserve it.

And along the way,

I may need to carry a pebble,

Or a rock,

Or a boulder.

But so be it.

Because I am the ocean,

And the ocean always comes back,

To kiss the shoreline goodnight,

And wash away all its worries.

I am the ocean.

And I,

Am worth it.