Tick, Tock The hands circle the clock. Holding my breathe one, two, three, and four until it gets harder. Chained under the confinement of society unable to breathe pressured by the waters all around me. If i were to stop holding on would anybody know? Im pretty low, so far from shallow. My cries and tears, neither seen nor heard tears mesh with the waters below. Would anybody know? Would they know the pains that happen here, the voices i hear. all the way down here. Would they hear the screams? or the plea for help? Does anybody care, is there anybody there? Ticking is the clock Counting down the time. . .