You feel like you're drowning in regrets and sorrows
so when you hit the surface it's a breath of new air
a taste of what you used to feel.
Your lungs are filled with oxygen, you can feel them thanking you.
Everything is at peace. Everything is quiet.
The water keeps you afloat; you stretch out your arms, reach out with your legs, and close your eyes.
You exhale.
But you're drifting, the waves are crashing, you forget how to swim, and you're under once again,
Everything is paralyzed, and the collection of pillow cases you've drenched in your own remorse are filling your body, weighing you down.
You've reached the sea floor, not walking but shuffling, almost dragging your feet,
your feet that are aching with loneliness.
You can not swim to the top, but your body won't stop moving along the floor and you can't help but wonder how this is all happening.
How can I feel such pain but not my movement?
How can I drown but never to death?
Why am I still alive at the bottom of this endless pit of water?
Your lungs are heavy with last night's thoughts and you forget the last time they were light and airy.
This ocean is too wide for just you, so you walk the floor until you find something.
You don't know what you're looking for, maybe a reef to rest, a boat for saving, a shark to put an end to your misery.
Your demise is not up to you.
