Liquid and oxygen, the latter was scarce
and even its abundance wouldn't be worthwhile
for the duct of inhale has become dense.
There have been stages, for what occurred that this became of me:
a push, a painful splash, diving would be an understatement;
flapping, a struggle, a longing as such I had never felt
fear, alarming, my anatomy was defining
as for the floor, it was invisible
and my mothers ring didn't inform its fall
as it was now as light as feather;
it was my first time,
still they pretended like I was a professional,
it feels like ages but no hand was sent and the numbing,
I tried to send the message,
I don't want to learn anymore, just pull me out
through bubbles that never the less dissipated,
now I am left with the strength
to sink, only.
-She let him see, as she broke completely.
YOU ARE READING
THE GIRL WHO SPOKE POETRY
PoetryThe thing about pain is, it makes you question.. what makes you human? ____________ **Not cliche, I repeat, Not cliche, WARNING, not cliche**
