Swimming some call it but it’s more like a float
Living some call it but there’s really no hope
“It is what it is” others might say.
But to me you see, it’s just a regular day.

One thing is a constant a never ending stream,
Every human is destined for that very same dream.
The dream of nothing, that dark hollow pool,
Pain and joy equal to a stool.

“There’s a light at the end” the words pompously said.
But the end is only darkness, darkness now, darkness then.

Don’t judge the float or the loss of hope.
That fantasy, that swim of life,
Is all the same pie just another slice.
For the stream it keeps flowing, flowing all night
To the same destination of the dream without light.