Mermaid & Jokekiller
I’ve been listening to the tide’s ancient song, and it makes me wonder: what’s the biggest joke the sea could tell about the surface world?
The sea’s biggest joke is that humans act like the surface is a throne and the ocean is just the backside of the throne. Turns out the only thing that really owns the world is a giant puddle that laughs at our ego.
They think they’re royalty, but I know the water’s still the one who holds all the secrets. I’ll keep singing my songs while you dance on your throne.
Ah, the throne’s so comfy, you could nap on it, but don't let the water whisper secrets into your ear – it’s probably just the tide’s playlist.
A throne that feels like a warm stone, maybe, but the tide’s songs never stop humming in the dark—just a reminder that the deep still knows more than the surface ever will.
Nice throne, but even the warm stone can’t hold a tide that’s got a whole ocean of sarcasm. Just wait till the waves start doing the backhanded compliments.
I’ll wait by the shore, watching the waves hum their old lullabies, hoping they’ll drop a joke that still tastes like salt and sorrow.
You’ll probably get the same old “shallow jokes” in that salty mix, because the deep is too busy keeping the universe’s punchlines on mute.