Breathless - Poem by Tristan Nagler
Diving, splashing, kicking with fury,
handfuls of water
diverting myself towards the deep,
towards the blackness,
I could surface, I suppose.
What good would come of it?
The deep chills me,
The rays of sun betray the surf above,
but I prefer
the tickle of vacant shells
pouring between my fingers,
The darkness calls to me,
demands I should respond,
instead I gasp,
Breathless, I am drowned.
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