Not a breath of air,

to be found in my lungs.

Drowning,

just below the surface,

close enough to see,

the sun,

but not close enough,

to gasp for the air,

I desparately need.

Heavy,

rusted chains,

slicing my ankles,

looks almost like,

red water color paint,

flowing in the current.

Except,

this painting,

isn’t pretty.

Drowning,

inside my own,

sorrows.

Won’t you,

set me free?