the sea anemone in me

So many people, places, things I feel anchored to pushing and pulling and weighing each for its own benefit, the fulfillment of its own agenda. Things I've wanted to keep have been torn from me and everything I'd kill to shed remains bound. Sometimes it seems a reasonable task to keep on, mostly I find myself lacking; repeating every sentiment positive or negative, living in shifts like the ocean's tides. Maybe we all operate this way, but it seems others get further along on their paths and I somehow remain, sore and bruised and growing a quiet rage, harboring a gentle hatred that I've not learned to use for anyone's advantage. It remains pure and private as a memento of everything that's broken and all the negative spaces waiting to be filled.