Why must it always seem like a chore,
when it should be as nice as candy?
they always depend on something expected to know already
but never could they give a hint.
swimming with the swans in a gray lake,
i make a dive hope to never see surface.
its not worth it to see the sun;
its not worth the strength
to only get tackled my someone else's mutilation
i'll drown myself out until the pressure takes me out,
and only then i'll float back to the top,
to see what is left of my spirit.
i don't think the clouds are worried.
neither should I.
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