Tears stream down like fish swim downstream.
Someone once said, “don’t kill yourself, kill your life.”
And it made me ponder how to staunch my flowing blood.
Drowning in a pool of prismatic pigmentation.
Seeking gold on an abandoned beach in December.
Sweating and seething, but paralyzed by the pain.
Mirages and masquerades dance before my eyes.
Dreams so far from reality make awakening a lesson in misery.
How am I to jump ship after I captained it so bravely?
I am simply a coward cursing the sky, the sea, the stars, the sun.
Finding joy in so little; finding it so difficult to lift myself out of bed and into the world.
Limbs like lead, a body fighting a determined mind.
But when did determination not translate to action?
Lustrous lives play out on social networks, as my lazy lifestyle pulls me into the mud.
Could I be somebody? Somebody I respect and love?
Could I smile and not be feigning happiness?
I’m a quarter of a century old and I’ve nothing to show for it but the scars on my frail figure.
I could make a swift departure.
I could search the land beneath for diamonds.
I could find my purpose and passion.
But I think for now I’m just possessed.
And I think for now, I am stuck in a burning building.
I am too afraid, like a mouse hiding from a ravenous cat.
I worry, whisper, and whimper. But I fail to work, walk, and wish.
I guess for now, I’m a silly fish swimming upstream against the current.
I’ll never reach the delta of the river any time soon.
Maybe I’ll grow up, maybe I’ll grow hardened.
Maybe one day I’ll glorify my surroundings in grateful fashion.
But for now, for unseen forever, I’ll just do as a swan: Graceful on the surface, but a nervous wreck below, treading water to stay afloat.