First my feet,
then my legs,
my body slides deep,
moving forward,
cold strikes my face,
but I don't stop.

I feel my hair pull behind me,
my lungs begin to burn,
my arms grow tired,
fighting to go deeper,
to reach to bottom where no noise would reach my ears,
but I don't stop.

My hand glides across the slimy undergrowth,
Silent and alone I sit,
looking up,
the surface like glass,
I reach toward my home,
the surface where I live,
my lungs burn even more,
but I don't stop.