You will never know true helplessness, unless you’ve drowned.

The water burns the path it seeps down, mixing with the blood of something foreign.

Every inch of you is awake, begging for impossible salvation.

Even from the ones who hold your head in the water.

The only sound beside your unintelligible gurgles, is the thrashing of your desperate self.

And even that will stop too.

Because the worst part of it all is the maddening peace that washes over,

stripping you away of the one thing keeping you float.

Hate.