This is not a gentle poem. It's a knife - slow, silent, and unforgiving. A descent into the mind of someone who was drowning long before they ever touched the water. Every line bleeds with the kind of pain that's too quiet to be noticed until it's too late. It's about the final moment - not of death, but of realization. The regret. The horror. The scream that comes when no one is left to hear it. If you've ever felt invisible, if you've ever wanted someone to ask if you're okay and mean it - this poem is for you. Or maybe it's already about you.
Now available in: English, Arabic, Spanish, French, Russian, Italian, and German.
Requests for more translations are open - message me your language, and I'll make it happen.
All rights reserved.
© 2025 by _hailey_morgan_
No part of this poem may be copied, reposted, or reproduced without permission.All Rights Reserved