Watered Despair
by Amber Mongue
My eyes are filled with distraction,
viewing only a single scene without reality.
There is sea,
beautiful to the beholder with water clear as glass.
There is no sky,
no visible bottom,
and no landscape in sight.
A body floats,
the water undisturbed.
That is me,
unawares and apathetic.
My eyes are hazed,
lifelessly gazing at the nonexistent sky.
The silence above the water,
fatal to those who realize it.
My ears are below however.
The sounds I hear,
the screaming, arguing, seducing voices,
hatefully gab on and on.
I do not hear them,
their abhorrence passing through one ear and out the other.
My mind is elsewhere,
endangered.
My mind is bleeding and fleeting,
bound to the concrete slab of my thoughts.
It sinks deeper and deeper,
crying out to the floating object above,
begging for someone to see it's decent.
Deeper and deeper,
darker and darker,
louder and more heinous they grow.
If they had a form,
their decrepit face would sneer and snicker at their handy work,
laughing with joy as their host writhes in pain.
And then,
it stops.
She sinks without a voice,
eyes closed and hears open.
Nervous silence envelopes.
They are worried,
poking and prodding at it now,
trying to induce the reaction they pride themselves on.
And then,
it stops,
held up by unknown causes.
The surface and the body are barely still visible,
deeply faded by the darkness that ensued.
The rope,
connecting the slab and the mind,
is cut.
She is still,
emptily hanging there.
And then,
dragged up by the neck,
it ascends.
Up it goes,
yet it does not seem to care,
eyes closed and motionless.
Higher and higher,
picking up speed as the anxiety of the water swells.
Obvious resistance wears upon the ragged thing,
the apparent difficulty of its ascent
begetting more and more anxiety,
In sight,
the floating object on the surface is being batter by waves,
created by the tension from those that dwell beneath.
Brighter and clearer the water grows around the mind,
eyes growing accustom to the change through the slight slits,
unsure of that which occurs.
Higher and higher,
until at the very end,
it reaches the floating thing and becomes 1 again.
The person,
now showing signs of life,
trembles and shivers,
being raised above the water so it may heal.
Only to be dragged down once again.
viewing only a single scene without reality.
There is sea,
beautiful to the beholder with water clear as glass.
There is no sky,
no visible bottom,
and no landscape in sight.
A body floats,
the water undisturbed.
That is me,
unawares and apathetic.
My eyes are hazed,
lifelessly gazing at the nonexistent sky.
The silence above the water,
fatal to those who realize it.
My ears are below however.
The sounds I hear,
the screaming, arguing, seducing voices,
hatefully gab on and on.
I do not hear them,
their abhorrence passing through one ear and out the other.
My mind is elsewhere,
endangered.
My mind is bleeding and fleeting,
bound to the concrete slab of my thoughts.
It sinks deeper and deeper,
crying out to the floating object above,
begging for someone to see it's decent.
Deeper and deeper,
darker and darker,
louder and more heinous they grow.
If they had a form,
their decrepit face would sneer and snicker at their handy work,
laughing with joy as their host writhes in pain.
And then,
it stops.
She sinks without a voice,
eyes closed and hears open.
Nervous silence envelopes.
They are worried,
poking and prodding at it now,
trying to induce the reaction they pride themselves on.
And then,
it stops,
held up by unknown causes.
The surface and the body are barely still visible,
deeply faded by the darkness that ensued.
The rope,
connecting the slab and the mind,
is cut.
She is still,
emptily hanging there.
And then,
dragged up by the neck,
it ascends.
Up it goes,
yet it does not seem to care,
eyes closed and motionless.
Higher and higher,
picking up speed as the anxiety of the water swells.
Obvious resistance wears upon the ragged thing,
the apparent difficulty of its ascent
begetting more and more anxiety,
In sight,
the floating object on the surface is being batter by waves,
created by the tension from those that dwell beneath.
Brighter and clearer the water grows around the mind,
eyes growing accustom to the change through the slight slits,
unsure of that which occurs.
Higher and higher,
until at the very end,
it reaches the floating thing and becomes 1 again.
The person,
now showing signs of life,
trembles and shivers,
being raised above the water so it may heal.
Only to be dragged down once again.
Amber Mongue's poem won first place in the poetry division of the Frederick County Young Authors Contest.