My body moves with the waves
of my deep, dark ocean home.
I lay on the sand deep below and look up to the light above.
It's calm down here.
I breathe, for what feels like the first time.
And I feel safe.
Each time I exhale I watch the bubbles from my lungs rise to the surface.
A gentle reminder for those living on the clouds that I'm still here.
I'm still breathing.
I still live as you,
only colder.
I could not rise to the air even if I wanted to.
Because the stones I keep swallowing weigh me down.
I cannot step when I wear heavy shoes,
And my arms are tied to the anchors of sunken ships.
Do not worry for me.
I'm happy where I lay.
My eyes may sting from the salt,
but I bare the pain just fine.
I'm the happiest I can be.
A sugary cereal type of happy.
Sweet.
Saccarin.
I'm the type of happy that hurts after a while.
Because you know it's not good for you.
It's a false kind of happiness.
But it's better than the white rice nothingness I normally feel.
