Beneath The Surface

The truth about drowning is 

it's incredibly quiet,

beneath the surface of life.

 

Lungs may be screaming,

still heart pounding,

but silent serenity floods my body

like the water burbling through my chest.

 

Sneeze spheres rush to break,

to reveal the spirit lingering

beneath the surface of life.

 

Fists drum upon the walls,

drip drops flood the floor

seeping beneath the door

angered tone implores to turn off the tap.

 

But I'm dissolving in a porcelain bowl,

fading, softly, down the drain

beneath the surface of life.

 

The End

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