Why, oh why, is it this way?
I know not how to swim very well,
But when I see the sea, or wander within a pool, I have to stop and pray,
That my tears show not,
That my eyes stay not red, but white,
For the water reminds me of what I am not...
Why can I not breathe beneath the wave's foam, white?
Why can I not dive to the depths of the divers?
And see through water, like looking through air?
Why can I not the ocean's bottom traverse,
With something other than my pitiful human legs of despair?
Why can I not, with every breath, create bubbles,
And each tear of joy and sorrow,
Float into my breathing medium, unobservables,
Why can I not swim through the kelp forests and medows?
Why ugly, dirty, feet?
Why not a tail, scaly?
And have the water, as my one true creed,
And be one with it daily?
They say, "with [deity name(s)], all things are possible",
Is it not true that miracles are real?
Can the gods not be more flexible,
And bestow upon me, my fate with their power, celestial?
Why am I not one of the merfolk hiding in the sea?
With every fiber of my being,
I pray, and I plea,
To be my destiny, or my tears kept from mortal eyes seeing.