Deep and cold

"You'd think I'd be used to this by now.

To the way I can hardly breathe.

To the way I'm pulled back under by a wave every time I successfully come up for air.

You'd think I'd be used to the way I'm occasionally given something to keep me a float,

Only to have it taken before I can fully rest.

You'd think I'd be used to the way that no matter how thick the black icy water is,

I still won't allow myself to drown.

Years of swimming to the surface only for a wave to crash down on me.

Why do I keep trying?

How easy it would be to go stagnant and let myself sink.

To feel the way the water fills my lungs as I finally become free.

To finally sucume to the towering waves, leaving an icy stabbing feeling all over my skin.

To watch the people who threw me in experience the same dark fate.

So why?

Why am I still swimming?

Why do I still have hope?

Why won't I die?

Perhaps,

Just maybe,

If I keep pushing through,

Someday,

I'll reach an island where I can finally rest

And finally heal. "