Mar 24

Lost at Sea

I can't carry this anymore.
This weight on my shoulders,
dragging me down too deep,
until I can't breathe.
My voice floats away,
in bubbles tearing out of my mouth.
That's all my pleas are.
Bubbles.
Pop.
I try to inhale.
All I do is choke.
Lifering,
lifering,
I need a lifeline.
The sea floor is covered
in shattered glass.
Glass just loves to break.
Shouting
yelling
pulling
tearing.
Too much to bear
so I go numb.
Frozen over,
now I can't thaw.
I trusted once,
and I was broken like this glass.
Isn't it twisted,
that seaglass is so beautiful,
but it's really just been worn down to almost nothing?

If I could only ever swim up,
I'd find somewhere safe.
All soft colors
and soothing light.
Somewhere to call mine.
When I dream,
I dream of someone to hold close.
Someone to hold my secrets,
and help me carry
the weight I've been given.
I dream of beauty.
A me I can learn to love.
A mind that is whole.
And then I wake up.
And I am back at the bottom of the sea.