CHARTERED WATERS

CHARTED WATERS

Here I stand once more, in this well-worn domain,
Familiar territory, like charted waters deep and wide.
The currents pull the same, relentless and unchained,
Same circumstances cloaked in shadows, where old ghosts reside.
Different faces flicker by, masks of strangers new,
Yet my role endures, unchanging, ever true—
The quiet anchor in the storm, the one who holds the line,
While waves of repetition crash, eroding what is mine. The repressed people-pleaser stirs within my chest,
A shadow self that whispers, "Hush, don't make a scene."
It fears the ruffled feathers, the unspoken protest,
By merely speaking up, I'd shatter the serene.
But silence breeds the monsters, the prophecies self-made,
Where inaction carves the path that I alone must wade.
If I don't pipe up now, in this echoing void,
The cycle spins eternal, my voice left unemployed. It's a dog-eat-dog world, savage and unkind,
Where predators prowl the edges of the mind.
They steal your ideas like thieves in moonless night,
Your theories twisted, reshaped, claimed as their right.
Originality pilfered, sparks of genius snuffed,
I've watched it unfold in real time, raw and rough—
Countless echoes of betrayal, shadows on the wall,
Each theft a silent wound, a crumbling of the soul. This whole "situation," woven with cunning thread,
Its narrative a labyrinth, designed to mislead.
Every turn and twist, a calculated snare,
Leading me in circles, back to despair's cold lair.
No random happenstance, no innocent design,
It's engineered to trap me, to claim what's truly mine.
I stumble through the fog, thrust into games unseen,
Pawns and plots converging, where I never meant to be. I don't relish the confusion, the disorienting haze,
Of battles waged in secret, in this manipulative maze.
That's no accident either, this veil of feigned surprise,
It's all orchestrated chaos, under knowing eyes.
They box me in completely, walls of my own doubt,
My sanity the prisoner, screaming to break out.
With fists of unstable cheer, they pump the air in glee,
Invisible victories claimed, while I fight to be free. Yet in this endless loop, a spark begins to gleam,
The people-pleaser fades, replaced by waking dream.
I'll shatter the illusions, rewrite the scripted play,
No more stolen echoes, no more games at bay.
For in the heart of repetition, a truth begins to rise:
My voice, once silenced, now claims the endless skies.
No longer the anchor bound, but the storm that sets me free,
In charted waters turned wild, I'll forge my destiny.