I'm mad at myself.
I'm silently slipping away,
Towards failure,
towards insignificance,
towards self-destruction.

I'm sinking,
Being pulled under by the crashing waves,
And no one can pull me up.
I'm not even close enough to the surface,
to see an outstretched hand.

I can feel weight on my chest.
It's hurting me.
It's too great.
If I try to fight there's relief.
Then it's pressing me down again.
I can't get it off me long enough to get up for air.

It'd be easy to let myself struggle no more.
I could stop pushing and let the weight bare down on me,
and tear at me until I drown.
It wouldn't take long.

But for now I'm just hanging in there.

- Rachel Smith