Splinters

Like cheap driftwood
Torn asunder
Spiraling hopelessly
In a stormy river’s current

Speeding
For whatever looms
The glorious culmination

I am destined
To be swept away
My demise unheard
For kin have fallen deaf

Skewered upon rock
The wail of strife calms
Gradually winded
Hoarse, as the earth pulls away

There are no splinters
Washed without care
Upon a lone, distant shore

Only the careless hum
Of daily strife
The urge to carry on