We walked along the shore,
separate but joint.
Look up. The broken stars,
the anguished stars will explode.
Beauty in the most shattered souls.

We walked along the shore,
the present in yesterday.
Look up. The battered lives,
the lost lives wander these skies.
Joy in the souls who've suffered.

Every traitorous thought you harbour
ties a small rock to your ankle
as you tread water in the open ocean.

Every spiteful thought from a family member,
friend, acquaintance, stranger
ties another.

It weighs you down,
of course it would.
You know how to swim,
you know how to float and tread water.

But that is not what will save you.

Everyone tires eventually.

You hold a pair of scissors in your hand.
It is slightly blunt,
of course it is.
You've cut your wrists and thighs and stomach,
your worth
so many times.

But even the bluntest of scissors will be helpful
when you're about to drown.
Wear down the string
then leave them behind on the ocean's floors.

It is easier to cut away what weighs you down
than try and pretend it doesn't bother you.