Water

Every time that I think
that my bucket is empty,
you fill it with words that are
harmless to you
but destroying to me
and my self-esteem slowly,
but surely,
drenches and becomes weak,
just like a soaked piece of paper.

Your words flow in my mind
like a river streaming downhill.
But they never seem to reach a pond,
or a lake,
or an ocean
where they can just be
and bother no one.

I know that you do not realize
how many times
that I
had to gasp for air,
that I
had to push myself to the surface
because of you.
You'd stop if you'd knew
how harsh it is.

Your hostile phrases are as permanent
as the coldness of rain
when you're already soaked with
freezing water.
The kind of cold that never seem to go away
no matter how much time
you spend in the sunlight.

Even if I have one buoy
that helps me whenever the wave of insults strike,
it isn't enough.
I still go below the surface.
And when I come out,
no matter how hard I search for,
I can never find a towel that dries off the insults.
So I let the sun,
and time
do the work.

I keep telling myself
to plunge past your insults
but every time that I go for a swim,
even for a quick dip,
I get caught in your nasty currents
and I can't continue my way
in the peaceful waters.

I guess that one day,
the oceans
and the lakes,
and the ponds,
and the rain will be warmer.
But until then,
I just have to wait for something unusual,
such as,
global warming perhaps,
to change that ice cold substance
into a pleasant and lukewarm liquid.