The Cycle

The Cycle



Shallow waters up to my throat,

Inches deep but I can't cope.



I struggle and writhe, gasping for air,

The weight on my shoulders is too much to bear.



People laugh; they stare, and tease,

I'm yelling inside "Help me, Please!"

If I could, I'd beg on my knees!



Nobody's hands or feet hold me down,

Their judgmental glares pull me to the ground.



Someone walks up, and as my world turns to grey,

They pull me out and start walking away.



The second I had were less than ten,

Before they pushed me in again.

Just so the Cycle wouldn't end.