I write like I am your underwater
There in awe of not being
No longer of earth
Once fully submerged
I see but cannot breathe a word
About anyone but myself in secret
And then suddenly my words run dry
Bursting forth into sandy existence
And I'm out

It's perfectly fine to feel emotionally tired...sometimes even the heart needs a break...don't be too ******* yourself...just breathe and try to relax.

If the tides of hatred ever crashed, over my heart with such ferocity, that I cannot swim or dry off their lasting affects therein. Then I will quit this concrete race to the death, and die on my own terms further within. Though my only friend be this inland wind. Somewhere there where the spray of a freshwater fray, is more friendly to me than a million duplicitous greetings beside. And so away from the edge of the earth I fly.