PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Drown


My feet touch the slick-tiled bottom

I bend my knees and steadily submerge. 

As I gaze up, the firmament above me blurs. 

My eyes unfocused, I exhale.

Rainbow pigmented orbs escape my lips, 

as my consciousness teams with water.

With my back to the tiles, I make out the whispers 

Of the orbiters around me. 

Their possibilities suffocate me as I inhale their success 

and water floods my lungs.

I am a burnout. 

Going nowhere. 

As I lay there, stuck

I start melting into the tile; 

a gut wrenching sensation takes over my body and breaks me

I sob invisible tears

Tears long vanished, becoming one with the water around me 

Enfolding my arms across my body, 

I burrow my nails into the bare skin of my back. 

I try to inhale, but my breath stops. 

Nothing in, nothing out. 

I feel like a silhouette, a lifeless body

My hands continue to claw at the prune like skin of my shoulders

My legs and stomach convulse, my mind shudders, 

and I fade into darkness. 

One last moment

One fleeting flash of consciousness

Hands trembling, I extended my arm in search of something

An open hand

Providence

Anything.

In that instant I suddenly knew the true feeling of desperation

The threat of death pales all other tribulations and I realized

Life was worth living

Despite every heart ache every loss,

It was still better to feel something

Than nothing.

I decide I am no longer going to be just a silhouette; 

I am filled with life and possibility.

Today is a day I will never forget. 

The drowning.

The breathing.

The living.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.

988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

Comments are closed for this poem.