Trembling in a sea of silence, I go under and can’t find my way. A way to somewhere, anywhere but where I’m at. Time goes by…tic toc-tic toc. It’s dark and lonely, no one is here but me. Inside, my soul is crumbling into little pieces that I can’t seem to find. Finding the pieces of a broken soul is not something that I can bring myself to do. They scatter and fall and I fall with them into a million little pieces. Coming up and gasping for air is hard-I go under.
A million little pieces of nothing is spread out across America. In a place where there’s so much shit banging at your door, you can’t help but gasp for air. Crumbling under the divine order is what happens to us when we can’t find our way home. Our souls are steadily gasping for air from unfinished business, to destruction of ourselves on a daily basis. When you see others going up for air and go back under you know the inevitable has occurred.
I’m not sure why the self destruction with our selves happens. For reasons not known to me but known to God, we self destruct and there go our poor souls, being taken by the cold limited darkness. I’m gasping and I like others are stuck, trapped, and lost. I try to come up but only get so far. Is it too late? Am I going to go out like this? I’m losing my energy and my mind. It’s hard to come back up to the top. As I float and find my way, I keep finding myself gasping for air.
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