One, Two, Three, Four.Instead of crying,Instead of searching through Deviantart and more,Lonely and depressed.Instead of dependently giving my friends a hello.Instead of turning on my playlist labeled despair.Instead of holding a blade in my hands and watching the crimson thickness dribble out.Instead of begging for some sort of haven.I will lay down in the usual way.Pillow vertical, my head resting upon it as my arms embrace its clothed cotton.And I will stare.Admiring the beauties that put on a show for me out a window.I will watch them dance to the booming sonnet that comes after.And I will smile. And although I shed a single tear, I will lay in solitude and peace.And watch the show.Although I cannot see their bodies, I see their movement.They light up the sky, illuminating my room for a brief moment.And although I do not hear their beat, I know it's there.Guiding their steps. One, two, three, four.One, two, three, four.I count.
DrowningImagine you're drowning.No, it's not just in a 6ft. pool. You're in an ocean.A lake that has no floor. It descends to oblivion. Your feet are shackled to cement bricks.They pull you like two hounds of hell dragging you to the fiery pits of the underworld.These shackles have needles that dig into your muscles. They scream, trying to contract. The weight of the cement drags the needles through your flesh, scraping at the bone.That's just the needlesThe density begins to push on you. Like closing walls in a dump truck. You try to hold that deep breath you took in before you went under, but the ocea disapproves. It compresses your chest, running your skin pale. Your ears ring, your eyes feel as if they're being pushed to the back of your skull. Your throat and lungs burn;But that's not all.Although you're hundreds of feet under, you can see the shore as clear as day. You can see everyone. They're laughing, talking. They're so happy, so cheerful. They water's so clear, so pure. Yet