If you swim, you know,
the relief felt when returning from below,
through the thin veil of water.
To breathe in, and blow.
It seems so simple, rarely a low blow.
That relief is unreachable to someone so low.
Lights fast with a spark and burns so slow.
Spreading dirt on the surface.
Time weighs on Time sewn,
Pulls down with each no.
Drags us down into hell,
to no longer flow with the burning winds of the surface.