If I could hit rock bottom,
I could push off and start up toward the surface.
Weighed down by the twin stones of shame and anger
I struggle against the murky depths.
"Pointless," the first voice screams.
My hollow chest answers with an echo.
I attempt to pull up again.
"Fleeting," the next voice laughs.
My arms and legs burn with the last of life.
Thrashing.
Seven small rays of light shine through, but are unattainable, unreachable.
"Let go," the last voice whispers.
Still waters pull me to God's face.
And the infinite silence is my welcoming party.
Dream or nightmare? I don't know anymore.
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